


It's Kind of a Funny Story

by deathsteel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Anxiety Disorder, Art, Awkward Boners, Cutting, Depression, Domestic Fantasy, F/F, F/M, Hidden Talents, Hospitalization, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Music, POV Castiel, Past Abuse, Rambling thought processes, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Wet Dream, shockingly cavalier attitudes about suicide, typing like I've forgotten how to breathe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 133,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsteel/pseuds/deathsteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an aborted suicide attempt lands Castiel Shurley in the hospital, he meets Dean Winchester, a charming damaged young man who is much more than first meets the eye.  Not being able to deal with the stress of growing up may have gotten him here and being hopelessly in love with his best friend's girlfriend probably didn't help, but Castiel soon learns that sometimes it takes  going a little crazy to find the path you were always meant to be on. </p><p>Loosely based on the movie/book by Ned Vizzini 'It's Kind of a Funny Story'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t the first time that Castiel had thought about killing himself, it wasn’t even the second or the fifth or the twentieth. But usually it was a fleeting thought, something along the lines of ‘Oh my god, I will just kill myself if I don’t pass this test’ that he didn’t really mean and he would forget about almost as soon as he was reassured by one of his family members over the phone or one of his few friends that he studied enough and put so much effort into school that he had nothing to worry about. 

When he dreamt about doing it, it was always the same dream. Castiel was standing on the railing of the Brooklyn Bridge, a lucid part that remembered the details when he woke up would provide that he was probably on his way either to or from school since his faded, vintage Schwinn was always leaned up near where he was standing and the only places he went anymore seemed to be the NYU campus and his apartment. Someone always stopped him, someone who cared. One of his old therapists once said that if you had one person who you could think of to live for then you really didn’t want to kill yourself. 

Usually in his dreams it was his dad or one of his siblings talking him down from the edge. Chuck fretting and worrying over his son, running his hands through his hair in that way that Castiel knew he had picked up from his dad, Gabriel using snarky comments (“What about your bike, Cassie? I wanted that bike.”) and calling him a moron in that way that everyone close to his older brother knew meant he cared, Michael being stern in a way their father never could as he told him to get down or he would make sure the reference letters that Castiel wanted for grad school never made it to the admissions offices, Anna asking him softly and gently to think about what he was doing with those big, innocent eyes she had that got her everything she wanted. 

Every now and then it would be Meg or Balthazar, his friends always together and unknowingly flaunting their perfect relationship in front of him, begging him to reconsider because it was really hard to find a roommate who wasn’t a totally weirdo junkie in Brooklyn these days.

But this time, when he woke up from the dream he couldn’t remember who it had been to talk him down and as he sat on the balcony of his apartment watching the sun rise over the jumbled, messy city skyline, drinking coffee and toeing at Meg’s discarded cigarette butts, Castiel realized that this time there hadn’t been anyone there to stop him. That this time the dream had ended with him actually hitting the steel gray, icy water of the East River and sinking, pockets full of something heavy to weigh him down even though he wasn’t a very good swimmer to begin with. He had read somewhere once, probably for a paper or something that drowning was the most peaceful way to die so that’s what he had always imagined doing. 

After realizing that, Castiel got up, went about his normal routine like it was just another day. Like he was going up to campus to meet his GRE study group or to do some homework at the coffee shop near the library that was always quiet on the Sunday mornings after Meg stayed over. He liked to leave early on those days because it was weird for him to see the other girl walking around his and Balthazar’s apartment in just the other man’s V-neck shirts that were too large for her, but not large enough to provide full coverage when she would stretch up on tiptoe to reach the coffee mugs they kept on the top shelves in the cabinet. 

Once he had seen a glimpse of smooth rounded flesh and red lacy material before the woman had spun around to snatch up the coffee pot, smiling cheerily at him like he hadn’t just suddenly gotten the most lightening fast erection of his life. Ever since then he had made a point to be out of the apartment long before Meg or Balthazar woke up and if the pair noticed his absence then they either appreciated the fact that he gave them their privacy or they didn’t care what he was doing. 

He tossed his messenger bag which was heavy with half-written essays and blank applications for summer internships over his shoulder, pulled up the sleeves of his cardigan that he had decided to wear since the March weather was still nippy and took one last look around his apartment before setting off. Almost four years in the dwelling and it still felt like it belonged more to Balthazar than it did him and once during a party, someone had asked him who the enigmatic Brit’s lucky roommate was and hadn’t seemed very convinced when Castiel replied that he was it. Most people looked supremely unimpressed when they met him, especially when they learned who his family was and how little he had done to earn the name that had been given to him when he was adopted at age two.

Castiel took his normal route towards the school, cutting down the side streets and back alleys of DUMBO in order to reach the Brooklyn Bridge and the pedestrian walkway that spanned the length of the metal structure. As he rode, he wondered if anyone would miss him and how long it would take for Balthazar to notice that he was gone. It would probably take them running out of tea or milk or something since the foreigner didn’t like to go grocery shopping, but Castiel had just gone a couple of days before so it would still probably take his closest friend a while to piece together what had happened.

He stopped in the middle of the bridge, at the spot where the water ran the swiftest and the deepest and just looked for a couple of minutes as he tried to sort out his feelings. But that was another part of the problem, besides the insomnia and the stress and the nausea and the constant crushing pressure of all of his responsibilities, Castiel hadn’t felt much of anything lately. It was like he was covered in a heavy, wet blanket that just muffled the world and all of its sensations, the good and the bad until they all just bled together into one great big pile of grayish mush. 

Even sitting with Meg pressed close against him last night as they had watched a movie on the couch, waiting for Balthazar to get home from a late seminar that he had, hadn’t filled him with the usual thrill he got from being close to the small, assertive brunette. It had just left him feeling cold and empty and awkwardly hard, he hoped that was a good sign. People who were dead inside didn’t get boners still, right?

His phone rang from inside his pocket, trumpeting out ‘Paperback Writer’ by The Beatles and letting him know without looking that it was his dad calling him. Weird, Chuck normally wasn’t up this early on Sundays, he used to bat away Castiel’s mom on mornings when she was trying to rouse the older man to go to church, saying if God wanted him to get up then he needed to come down and drag him out of bed himself. 

Castiel pulled it out, steeling himself for an awkward, cryptic goodbye to his father that could act as his suicide note since he hadn’t thought about leaving one behind until just now.  


“Hello?” the younger man answered, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he continued to look down at the white-capped water rushing by underneath his feet. 

“Castiel? Are you okay?” Chuck’s voice was worried and confused and for a second his youngest son assumed that maybe something had happened with his little sister, Anna. Maybe she had twisted an ankle or something and would have to sit out the end of the year production that her ballet school put on.

“Yea, dad,” he replied looking up at the horizon where he could see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, the ferries already making the endless circuit between the tourist sites despite the early hour. “I’m fine. What’s going on?’

“Your mother was worried about you,” his father explained, making Castiel’s heart squeeze painfully in his chest. “I told her I would call to check on you, she says she misses you.”

Castiel cleared his throat, turning his back against the railing so that he faced the pedestrian walkway that he was riding on. His gaze fell on the love locks that were hooked to the suspension cables and he tried not to think about how Meg and Balthazar had put their own lock on the bridge last year when they all had been riding back from a concert, stopping and kissing in the middle of the bridge while he shuffled his feet and tried to fight back the swell of jealousy he felt. The one his mom and dad had put on when they were dating had been cut off by the city years ago and the idea to do it had been his before he let it slip to Balth how romantic and grand he thought the whole gesture was. 

“Mom’s dead, dad.” Castiel choked out, hoping that Gabriel would burst into the call right about now, laughing over how easy it was to pull one over on him. 

“I know that, son.” Chuck groused at him through the phone, sounding insulted that his son had felt the need to remind him. “But I still talk to her and she talks back. The way that woman carries on sometimes, you’d think someone was about to die or something. Anyway, I told her I’d call. She wanted me to tell you that we all love you and to keep riding, you’ll know when to stop.”

“Keep riding?” Castiel asked, his skin prickling with goosebumps.

“Yea, are you on a horse or something? Maybe she means you should take a vacation to a ranch. You know she always loved horses. When does spring break start anyway, isn’t that coming up? ”

“Uh,” the younger boy searched for something he could say to his father, this conversation was just too weird to be real; he had to still be dreaming. “Yea, spring break is this next week, dad. I think I may be too busy to take a vacation, y’know papers and stuff. I have to go, though. I was just about to do something before you called.”

“Of course, all of my brilliant children are just too busy to talk to their tottering old dad. At least I still have Anna trapped for another year before she abandons me too.”

“I love you, dad.” Castiel blurted, turning back to the water and hefting his heavy bag onto his shoulder. “You and mom, you know that right?”

“Of course we do, champ. It would just be nice to get a phone call every now and then. You want me to pass the message on to your sister too?”

“Yea, her and Gabe and Mike. Tell them all that I love them. I gotta go now, dad.”

“Alright, Castiel. Call me if you need any help with those papers, I’ll give you some big fancy writer words to use. Bye, kiddo.”

“Goodbye, dad.” Castiel said softly as he disconnected the call. 

He watched the water for a little bit longer, absently stroking the cracked screen on his phone and wondering if this was the right thing to do. Everything was just so overwhelming and the GRE was looming over him like this giant tidal wave that was going to crush him. It was this intense pressure on his chest that made it hard for him to breathe or eat or swallow. He had lost weight over the course of the last year and even though Meg joked, saying that sallow was a good look for him Castiel didn’t know how much longer he could go without sleeping before exhaustion alone made him keel over. 

It was the guilt that got to him and made him move, always the guilt. Ever since his mother had died it had come to dictate his every move, dominating his decisions of what he should do with his life and making him question every single thought that he had for the last year. It had never been as hard when she was still alive, telling him that he was special no matter what he did and saying that he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone by running himself ragged in an effort to compete with his siblings’ successes. 

He got back on his bike and rode, going back the way he came over the bridge and down the bike lanes. Castiel didn’t know where he was going, but something made him trust that he would know when to stop, just like his dad had said he would. He didn’t really believe that the advice had come from his mom, his parents had shared a very profound bond, but Castiel didn’t think it went much further than them being able to finish each others’ sentences or read the other’s moods. It certainly didn’t extend to being able to communicate after death, no matter how long they had been together. 

Castiel meandered through Hillside Park, passing by the playground where mom’s were bringing out their excited children, little half-formed versions of himself and his siblings and his friends that hadn’t been jaded by everything that life threw at them yet. He missed the days when he was a kid and life had been so blissfully ignorant and easy, back before school and dating and growing up became the questions that everyone asked him about, instead of just “How old are you, sweetie?” 

After about fifteen minutes of riding aimlessly, he stopped his bike with a screech. The melody that he always had going in his head had reached a crescendo, something that hadn’t happened with the music he made up as he rode in a very long time. Back before he had started obsessing over all of the choices he had made in his life thus far, comparing his failings against the triumphs of everyone else in his family and Balthazar who was pre-med. 

Doctors were so much cooler than accountants, no one ever listened after he said something about math, they just looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language. Castiel even bored himself sometimes with it all, most of the time he just guessed on his final answers and got lucky. This last semester, his luck had started to run out.

The music was swirling, reaching a cacophonous state in his mind as he locked up his bike at the bike rack and made his way towards the sliding glass doors of the emergency room. Long Island College Hospital was quintessentially Brooklyn in its appearance, all red brick and iron gates, imposing and professional without being gaudy like the shiny hospitals in Manhattan, those buildings looked like something designed by Frank Lloyd Wright with crazy angles and lots of brushed steel and glass. 

He strode up to the reception desk where a bored looking brunette girl was chatting idly on the phone and filing her nails. 

“So I just told her, girl you deserve better than that loser. Dude’s a total scrub. You don’t need a man to tell you how to live your life.”

Castiel didn’t know how to interrupt without being rude so he just resigned himself to standing there until she noticed him, his stomach clenching anxiously as he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from screaming. After about ten minutes of being ignored he leaned farther over the desk so that he could make out the name on the girl’s name tag.

“Excuse me? Krissy is it?” He said softly, giving her a little wave and a nonexistent smile in an effort to get her attention.

“Hold on,” the girl said with a sigh into the phone, rolling her eyes at something the other person said. “Yea, I know. How can I help you sir?”

“Um, yes.” Castiel said fidgeting with his glasses that had started slipping off his face as he broke out in one of the unexpected cold sweats he had started experiencing over the last couple of weeks. “I uh…I want to kill myself.”


	2. Chapter 2

Krissy just looked blankly at Castiel for a moment before sighing and handing him a clipboard with several blank forms attached to it.

“Fill this out.” She said blandly before turning back to her phone call. “So now, she’s sleeping on my couch, eating all of my ice cream, and scaring my boyfriend with her crying. Yes, I’m still seeing that Canadian guy…”

Castiel stared at the clipboard in his hand like it was a foreign object, clearing his throat and adjusting his bag on his shoulder again.

“I said I want to kill myself.” He repeated, like that the girl hadn’t heard him correctly the first time. The last thing he wanted to do was fill out another application for something. 

“Yea, I heard you.” The girl replied snappishly as she tucked the receiver up under her chin and picked her nail file back up. “But you still have to fill those out. No forms. No doctors. Thems the rules.”

He swallowed hard, fighting back the burnt coffee tasting bile that had risen up in his throat and turned to survey the waiting room. It smelled like disinfectant and vomit, scents that were familiar to him now that he couldn’t seem to hold down more than black coffee and every now and then the cinnamon toast that his mom used to make him when he was sick. It wasn’t as good when he made it and it always sat heavily in his stomach when he was doing homework or in class until he had to rush to the bathroom when it eventually came up.

It had hard looking red plastic chairs that were just as uncomfortable as he had expected them to be, pushing painfully into the base of his spine when he sat down and situated his messenger bag in between his knees. Castiel sighed and started on the forms, wiping a hand across his forehead as he filled in the blanks for his family history, as much as he knew anyway since his birth parents were a complete mystery. The only thing he knew for sure was that he probably wouldn’t get cancer like his mom had; none of his siblings would get cancer. That thought just made the guilt worse, causing his hands to shake when he turned in the completed forms to an apathetic Krissy and sitting back down with his head lolling back until it clunked on the plastic behind him.

The ticking clock in the waiting room was so loud in the mostly empty space. It made his eyes throb and pulse in time with the noise so he shut them, to block out the fluorescent lighting and the way that that creepy little girl across from him was staring at him while her mom flipped idly through an outdated magazine and rolled her eyes at her husband who as groaning softly in pain beside her, clutching at his side even though Castiel couldn’t see what was wrong with him. But it’s not like anyone could just look at him and see the mess that was inside his head so he gave the guy the benefit of the doubt. 

He looked up when a body dropped heavily into the seat beside him, sighing loudly. It was a girl in green surgical scrubs and long white doctor’s coat, her red hair was pulled up in a messy bun and she was pretty in a way that was completely different from how Meg was, this girl was pale and willowy kind of like his younger sister and she was idly munching on a package of trail mix, the kind that you get out of vending machines. She nodded at Castiel in greeting when she noticed he was watching her.

“How’s it going, man?” She asked holding her bag of trail mix out towards him. “What some?”

“No thanks,” Castiel replied, tugging uncomfortably on his cardigan as he sat up straighter. 

Girl’s just didn’t talk to him, not when there were other options for them, but then again he was in an emergency room and not visibly gushing blood or other body fluids so he figured that gave him a leg up on any other competition that may be sulking around. 

“What’s wrong with you?” The girl asked, tossing up a peanut and trying to catch it in her mouth, wincing a bit when it bounced off her forehead. 

“I’m just not hungry.” He replied watching as she stuck her tongue out at the creepy little girl and dug around in the packaging to pull out the M&Ms that were lurking inside. 

“No,” she said popping the candy into her mouth with an amused grin. “I mean, why are you in an ER at six o’clock on a Sunday morning?”

“Well…uh,” Castiel didn’t know why he was talking to her, maybe it was the scrubs that put him at ease or maybe it was the way she was sprawled out in the chairs like they were her living room furniture, looking perfectly at ease in her own skin in a way that he never could. “There’s just been a lot going on…in uh my mind lately….”

“Go on.” She encouraged turning towards him slightly and tucking her leg up on the chair underneath herself.

“And um…there’s this girl.”

“Gotcha, girls. Man, I get that.” 

“And I’m taking the GRE in a couple of weeks and there are all of these summer internships I have to apply for,” Castiel reached into his bag and pulled out the thick ream of applications that he hadn’t finished yet so that he could show them to the girl.

“Summer internships? Why would you want to work over the summer and probably not get paid for it? You should be on Coney Island, bird-doggin’ chicks.”

He tilted his head at that, confused.

“Are you even a doctor?”

“What do you think?” She asked smirking at him knowingly and crumpling up the now empty trail mix package that she shoved into one of the pockets of her white coat.

“You’re a little young to be a doctor,” He admitted, narrowing his eyes at her and quickly stowing away the applications. Castiel felt silly for talking to her in the first place, she was probably just messing with him.

“You ever heard of Doogie Howser?” The girl asked glancing back down the hallway that she had come from when a sharp whistle pierced the air. “That’s my ride, gotta go.”

“Yo,” A male voice called followed by its owner ambling down the hallway to hook his arm through the girl’s as she stood up. The guy was handsome in that classic, effortless way that Balthazar was; the way that Castiel had always wished he was. He was also dressed in scrubs and a white coat, but Castiel could see the top of a grey shirt peeking out from the V shaped collar in the green material. “Our cover has been breached, Dr. Feelgood.”

“Roger that, Dr. Sexy.” The girl giggled, waggling her eyebrows at Castiel as the pair quickly started down the hall together. She paused for a second to call back to him though and the man she was with finally spared a glance his way, smirking at him causing crinkles to form at the corners of his green eyes as Castiel watched them go. “Hope they fix what’s wrong with you!”

“Who was that?” Castiel heard the man ask before he was startled by a tired sounding male voice pulling him away from staring after the odd pair.

“Castiel Shurley,” The guy said, scrubbing a hand over his face and looking at him unenthusiastically as he moved to follow, fumbling with his bag in his haste to make his way across the room as quickly as possible.

The man was younger, probably could actually qualify as a Doogie Hower, unlike the girl who looked to be about the same age as he and Balthazar. His green eyes were red-rimmed and watery like he was at the end of a very long shift and just wanted to get Castiel out of his hair so that he could finally go home. Castiel followed him into an examination room and the man started taking his blood pressure and pulse with practiced movements, so self-assured that Cas felt like a complete waste of space by comparison.

“How long have you been feeling suicidal?” The man asked, picking up a metal clipboard that had a whole new bunch of forms attached to it, flipping through it mechanically and jotting down some random jibberish that probably could only be read by doctors. Castiel knew that he couldn’t read Balth’s handwriting to save his life and he thought that the chicken-scratch had to be a prerequisite for wanting to be pre-med.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve been feeling bad for about a year and I’ve um…thought about it before, but never like this. So real.”

“Has anything happened today specifically to trigger these feelings?” The man asked.

Castiel wished that there was an easy answer to that question. That his birth family abused him or that he was bullied in school, something like the dramas that Meg liked to watch on television where every character had a tragic back story that completely explained away their reasons for being a broody, whiny asshole to everyone they knew. But besides his mom dying, his life was pretty perfect. And everyone’s parents died eventually, his siblings were coping with it. He was coping with it, sort of so that couldn’t be the reason why he wanted to die.  
Maybe it had something to do with feeling invisible all of the time. 

His dad, Chuck Shurley, was a New York Times best-selling author; there was even talk over the last couple of months of his books being optioned for a movie or a television show, but he didn’t know how far that had actually gone. Michael, Castiel’s oldest brother, was a big-shot investment banker; managing hedge funds and millions of dollars everyday like it was pocket change. He was what their mother had always called the stable one because he had done it all- gone to college, gotten the dream job, worked his way up from nothing to being the guy that people called the next Alan Greenspan.

Gabriel and Anna were “creative spirits” like their father was. Gabe had somehow managed to talk his way onto _The Today Show_ once, after finishing culinary school, because the chef that he was working for got stuck in traffic on his way over to the studio. That one appearance, where he had dipped Matt Lauer and pantomimed kissing him had been what had gotten him his own television show on The Food Network, _Shurley It’s Gourmet!_ Anna was in her final year at The Joffrey Ballet School and Castiel knew that he was not the only one in the audience who had broken down into an ugly, sobbing mess during her last dance recital. 

And then there was school which made Castiel feel like all he wanted to do was ream his head into the wall over and over until the knowledge just leaked out of his ears along with his brain matter and personality. Graduate school didn’t care about who he was or his extracurriculars, like when he had been in the school’s orchestra his freshman year back when he still played the piano and he and Balth were living in those horrible, cramped college apartments because Cas had wanted to have the genuine college experience like Michael had. All that they were looking at were test scores and grades, which Castiel knew wouldn’t get him very far since his grades had started slipping as he sank deeper and deeper into the pit of depression that he had stumbled into. 

Meg and Balthazar might be part of the problem too, mostly Meg. The girl had been in his life for four years now, been dating his best friend for almost that long too after a rousing floor party in their dorms had introduced her to the roommates. And he had been in love with her since the first moment he met her, but even then he was too shy to make the first move so he had just been left to sit back and watch as Balthazar swooped in with his accent and his smarmy stories about growing up in England to snatch her away from him forever. 

So between living up to his family name and the expectations that the world had for him, being less than extraordinary and knowing that he never would never measure up to the everyone around him, constantly cramming for school but still struggling with every test and every paper, and being in love with his best friend’s girlfriend; was there any one reason why he had decided that he would finally jump off of a bridge and end his miserable existence?

“No, nothing out of the ordinary,” Castiel replied robotically, wringing his hands from his perch on the examination table and watching the young doctor sigh as he flipped through his chart. 

“Are you on any medications?” The man asked moving to sit on a stool beside him.

“Um, Zoloft. But I stopped taking it, I felt better and my prescription ran out so I just never bothered to refill it.”

“Well you shouldn’t just stop your meds, ever.” The man said, clicking his tongue at him and reaching into his pocket to pull out a prescription pad. “They were probably working, that’s why you felt better.”

“Doctor--,” Castiel began, he wanted to explain that it was pointless just giving him more drugs because he couldn’t hold them down in fact he felt like he was about to throw up now so they should just cut the chatter and give him something intravenously to fix him so that he could go start working on his papers.

“I’m not a doctor yet, you can just call me Adam.” The man replied scratching down some things on the pad before clicking his pen and sticking it back into his shirt pocket. “Mr. Shurley, I don’t think you’re a danger to yourself. I’m just going to refer you to one of our outpatient services and from there they will set you up with new meds and someone to talk to.”

“Adam,” Castiel began seriously. “I told you I want to kill myself and you’re just going to send me home with a piece of paper? What if I do something?”

“Castiel,” Adam replied pinching the bridge of his nose. “The people that we admit here are very, very sick and I don’t thi—"

“I’m very sick!” 

He hadn’t meant to shout, most of the time he talked so softly that no one even noticed he was speaking at all, but this was life or death and all of a sudden he felt like there was probably at least one person who gave a fuck if he lived or died and Castiel wanted to find that person so he needed something besides a handshake and a phone number for a new therapist. 

“It feels like everything is just building up and it’s this constant pressure that just grinding me into the ground and everyone else can handle it but me. I need some help and my family…I can’t take this to my family. I’m scared. I can’t go back out there because I might do something and I just need some help, Adam. Please, just help me.”

The younger man sat back on his stool and studied him for a moment, narrowing his eyes and biting his lip in a way that betrayed his youth. Castiel watched as he nodded to himself before pulling his pen back out and marking something on one of the charts, scribbling out a signature at the bottom. Adam sighed heavily and removed the top page from the rest.

“Alright man,” Adam said pointing out a couple of spots on the paper. “I’m gonna need an emergency contact and then you need to sign here. I’ll call someone down to come and get you.”

Adam handed the form over to Castiel to sign, offering him his pen and the older man saw that it was a voluntary commitment form for the psychiatric wing of the hospital. He swallowed hard and met the other man’s gaze, trying to force an appreciative smile on his face before he signed his life into the hands of the caring staff at Long Island College Hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I've gotten to the point where ever movie I watch and every book I read morphs into Destiel in my head and it's gotten ridiculous. I know that I'm not alone in this...anyway! I don't bite, please tell me about your feels.


	3. Chapter 3

“So this is a teaching hospital, right?” The man who had picked Castiel up from the emergency room had been babbling since their introduction, going on and on about a bunch of different topics that started with how much he liked Castiel’s cardigan and kind of trailed off from there in a disjointed way. Now it seemed like the orderly, Garth, was actually focusing in on one topic much to Castiel’s relief.

“You’re going to see a lot of interns and grad students, but don’t let that scare you we all know what we’re doing and there are like, real doctors supervising us and stuff so we’re not going to prescribe you some crazy meds that zonk on you out or anything. Unless you need that kind of thing...”

Garth glanced down at the admitting papers that Adam had given him, shuffling through them until he came across the reason why Castiel had felt like he needed to sign away control of his life for a bit. 

“Oh, suicidal. Huh, well then I guess that’s one less rage-a-holic that I might get punched by. Anyway, you’re therapist is going to be Dr. Mosely and she’s a great lady, stern when she needs to be but very perceptive. She’s not in on the weekends so you won’t see her until tomorrow, but all of the groups and stuff are during the week anyway so we just kind of chill on the weekends.”

“We?” Castiel asked hoisting his bag on his shoulder as he watched the numbers for the elevators flash above him, climbing higher at an agonizingly slow pace. 

“Yea, the staff and the patients. There’s some art therapy stuff and every now and then we put a ping-pong tournament together, music therapy is every other week so next week for that and on the weekends we don’t have that we do a movie night. I think they’re watching Caddyshack or something else with Bill Murray tonight.”

“I don’t watch a lot of movies,” Castiel admitted, crossing his arms protectively over his chest when the elevator doors opened, revealing a large sign proclaiming ‘Adult Psychiatric’ with a big arrow pointing towards a set of double doors with built in windows on the left. “I’m usually too busy with schoolwork.”

Garth strode up to the door and knocked on the widow, getting the attention of a blonde girl about the same age sitting inside at the nurse’s station. “I forgot my badge again! Let me in!”

The girl got up and walked to the door, pointing a stern finger at the male orderly through the glass, “What did I say, Garth? Next time, you’re gonna have to chase down Rachel and explain to her why it looks like I open the door for every yahoo who wants onto the psych ward. So go find her, I’m not getting yelled at again because of you.” 

“Jo, I have a patient with me.” Garth complained, shifting back and forth on his feet and throwing an apologetic smile in Castiel’s direction. “You’re making me look bad, open the damn door.”

The woman side stepped until she could see Castiel on the other side of the door, taking in his posture and appearance with a scrutinizing gaze that made him slightly uncomfortable. He would never get used to the faces some girls made at him, like they knew something about him that he didn’t. 

“Say it and I’ll let you in,” Jo told Garth through the door, earning a groan from the other man. 

“No, Jo. You’re being really unprofessional right now.”

“Blame it on me already having to track down two patients who were just wandering around the hospital. I bet you let them do it too. You’re such a sucker, Garth. So say it because it’s the only way you’re going to get thorough these doors.”

Garth sighed heavily and glanced at Castiel before leaning in close to the glass, his breath ghosting over the square wires embedded in it as he spoke. “Joanna Harvelle is the Jedi master of all nursing staff and I am her padawon learner. Now open the door.”

Castiel watched as the girl smiled at Garth toothily before going back behind the desk and hitting some button that made the door buzz so they could push it open. The orderly motioned for Castiel to follow him as he went behind the nurse’s station and sat down heavily at one of the computers that were there. He grabbed one of the rolling chairs for himself and settled his bag in his lap as Garth pulled out a couple of sheets of paper from one of the filing cabinets under the desk. 

“Fucking Jo,” Garth muttered to himself, snatching up his name badge and clipping it on to the dark gray hoodie he was wearing with a pointed look towards the woman in question. “Women man, can’t live with ‘em and they won’t go on a date with you for nothin’.”

“Yea,” Castiel agreed, not really understanding because his one and only girlfriend had been in junior high before all of the girls in his class had started developing in ways that he couldn’t keep up with but couldn’t stop gawking at either. “So um...how long to do I have to be here?”

“Well, the usual stay is anywhere between two weeks and two months. It’s never more than two months, after that you’re either discharged or transferred to a residential treatment center somewhere.” Garth replied, passing the stack of papers to Castiel.

“Two weeks? I can’t be here that long, I have school and tests and other things going on. I have a life that I can’t just put on hold. Isn’t there like a condensed version of therapy or something I can do to get out of here faster?”

“I’ve seen people get a discharge plan from their doctors in a week,” Garth said with a shrug. “But treatment doesn’t just stop because you leave the hospital, you’ll still have to check in once a week for a month after you go and find a doctor who can provide continuing care.”

Castiel could feel his heart racing and his stomach churning, he’d had no idea what he was signing up for by doing this. He had figured maybe a week, with spring break coming up he could just take his time in here separated from the stuff that was stressing him out and get some work done for school. But more than that? No. That was just not going to work for him.

“I have to go,” He said quickly, standing up and dumping his bag on the tile floor forgotten in his rush to try to get some air that wasn’t stale and chemically smelling and suffocating. Castiel went to the double doors and pulled on the handles desperately, part of him had known that they weren’t going to open but he still had to find a way out of here and this was the most obvious way. 

“Castiel,” Garth said gently, coming up to pry his hands off the door. “You need to calm down, it’s too late to change anything right now.”

“It can’t be too late!” Castiel said urgently, turning towards the other man as he brought his hands up to his head to tug on his hair in an effort to ground himself to the situation he had put himself in. “There has to be someone you can call, tell them this is all a mistake. I don’t need to be here, I’m not like these people, I’m not crazy!”

“Can you keep it down?” A wan sounding male voice piped from farther down the hallway. Castiel noticed for the first time a smallish man with pale skin sagging off of his skeletal frame and dark circles under his eyes wearing white pajamas under a blue housecoat watching him along with several other people who had poked their heads out of the various doorways that lined the ward. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said deflating in the face of someone who was clearly much worse off than himself. “I just...I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“C’mon Castiel,” Jo said moving from her place behind the desk to put a comforting hand on his arm. “I know that this is probably a lot for you to take in. But we need some information before we can get you settled, do you think you can handle answering some questions?”

Castiel just nodded like an ashamed child and let himself be led back to the chair that he had been sitting in, resolutely ignoring the stares of the other patients even though he could feel their curious eyes studying him like he was an ant under a magnifying glass. Jo rolled her chair over near his, probably to be closer if he tried to do something irrational again, but it seemed like she was also trying to make him feel better because she kept smiling at him and it reminded him of his mom a bit so he focused on that instead of the way his chest felt like it was imploding. 

“So, Castiel,” Garth began again, shooting Jo a wary look as he picked up the papers that Castiel had dropped on the floor next to his bag when he had gotten up. “I know that you aren’t feeling so hot right now, but we need to know if you did anything before coming here?”

“Well I rode my bike around for a bit,” Castiel said picking at his jagged fingers nails that he had taken to biting down to the quick when he was working on homework late into the night.

“No, honey,” Jo said soothingly, making an apologetic face. “He means did you hurt yourself before you came to the hospital? Did you try to go for the good sleep?”

“The good sleep...” Castiel repeated slowly. “You mean did I swallow a bottle of pills before deciding that I needed to be here? Wouldn’t they have pumped my stomach or something in the ER if that was the case?”

“Sometimes it takes a while for it to become obvious that someone has done something like that,” Garth said, ticking something off on a sheet of paper that he had sitting on his desk. “Okay, um...do you have any special dietary or religious preferences that you would like for us to accommodate?” 

“Not really,” Castiel muttered shrugging slightly, why did everyone have to be so PC these days? Institutions like colleges and hospitals weren’t supposed to care if you kept Kosher or were vegan, at least none of the ones he knew about cared. 

“Great,” Jo said as Garth ticked off another little box. “Last one Castiel, promise. This is the important one, do you feel safe having a roommate or is there a reason why you need to not be in a room with a specific gender?”

“Why does it matter?” 

“In the past, there have been issues...” Garth said hesitantly. “With people being triggered because their roommate reminded them of someone who had hurt them so we try to avoid retraumatization by just asking up front if you have been abused or hurt by someone of either sex and if so we’ll make sure that you feel safe so that you can focus on the treatment the doctor plans for you instead of protecting yourself. That’s our job, to protect you. You’re job is to get better.”

“No,” Castiel said feeling even more horrible about himself for taking the place of someone who might really need to be in a place like this. “I’ve never been abused. You can just put me in a room with whoever, it’s not a big deal.”

“That’s great,” Jo said brightly, standing up and moving briskly to a closet behind the nurses’ station where she pulled down a medium sized clear plastic tub with a lid. She moved back to Castiel and set the container down on the chair where she had just been perched. “Now if you have anything sharp I need it. A pocket knife, keys, your belt, do you have shoelaces?”

“You need my shoelaces?” Castiel asked standing up and dumping his keys into the bin with a jangling clang, pulling his belt from his belt loops and slowly wrapping it up before putting it in the tote also. 

“Yea,” Garth said hefting Castiel’s messenger bag up onto the desk and patting it a couple of times. “Just anything someone might use to hurt themselves with. And we’ll have to go through your bag here too and then you can have the stuff out of it if you need it. The rest will be kept locked up back here until you discharge.”

“I’m going to need more clothes and shoes and stuff,” Castiel muttered more to himself as he fiddled with his phone, scrolling to hover over the contact he had for Gabriel, he had put his brother down as his emergency contact because he felt like the other man would be the least judgmental of all of his siblings and he sure as hell didn’t want the fact that he was in a psych ward to get back to Balthazar or Meg. 

“Well, we can call someone for you,” Jo said gently taking the phone out of his hand and thumbing it off before nestling it up against his belt. “But you can’t keep that with you, confidentiality and too many people making fake calls to the police.”

“Is that all?” Castiel huffed irritated as he bent over to remove his laces from his Converse with agitated movements. “Want to strip search me too?”

“Is there a reason to?” Jo asked archly.

Garth ignored the other woman and scrawled out Castiel’s name on a sticker, last name first which he then slapped onto the side of the tote.

He glanced up and bit his lip, “You’re glasses are plastic right?”

“I need them to see.” Castiel deadpanned. 

“You can have them,” the other man said quickly, raising his hands in defense. “Just know that if it becomes an issue we’re going to have to keep them with us.”

Castiel just sighed, feeling more tired than he had in a really long time. He felt like maybe he could sleep and the nightmares wouldn’t plague him like the normally did and maybe his brain would stop worrying for long enough that he could take a fucking nap. 

“Alright!” Jo said clapping her hands together and steering him down the hallway with a guiding hand on the small of his back. “I think you’ve had just about enough of us, right? Let’s get one of the others to show you around and we’ll get your room set up.”

They stopped in front of an open common area that had worn, comfortable looking couches and chairs scattered around. There was a television mounted in one corner of the room and morning cartoons were buzzing softly in the background, a scratched ping-pong table stood off to the side and there were two small bookshelves full of broken spined paperbacks and tilting vinyl records that had a record player sitting on top. 

The room was mostly empty with just a dark haired woman wearing sunglasses standing in front of one of the two windows in the room, arms crossed over her chest and muttering to herself. Castiel thought he heard something about angels and ghosts, but he didn’t want to eavesdrop so he just turned his attention to the two people who had their backs towards him on the couch. One had to be a girl with red hair flowing down and over the armrest that she was laying back on, Castiel could see a book peeking over the top of the couch in her hands and he smirked when he saw that it was a copy of The Hobbit. The other was a man with short, dirty blonde hair whose own head was titled up towards the television as he sipped a cup of coffee.

“Guys,” Jo said getting the attention of the early risers who were in the room. Castiel could see from the clock that it was just after eight; Balthazar and Meg probably weren’t even up yet. “This is Castiel. I need a volunteer to show him around while Garth and I get his room together. Anyone?”

The girl on the couch sat up, poking her face over the couch and lighting up when she saw Castiel standing in the doorway. It was the girl from the emergency room, the one that he had thought was a doctor only now the scrubs and long white coat were gone, replaced with a black shirt that had the Hogwarts crest on it and a brightly colored plaid over shirt. She hit the man on the couch on the shoulder excitedly until he finally turned his attention away from the television as it went to commercial.

“Come on guys, do me a solid here.” Jo whined, gesturing up and down Castiel’s body like he the grand prize in the Showcase Showdown. “He’s not going to bite. You’re not a biter, right?”

Castiel shook his head, feeling his stomach clench as the girl leaned in to whisper something into the man’s ear, covering her mouth so that he couldn’t read her lips. The other man’s green eyes widened as they roved over Castiel and he turned to the girl with his brow furrowed slightly.

“You think?” he heard the man ask quietly, his face clearing when the girl nodded at him and rolled her eyes before she settled back down where she had been laying down on the couch.

The man jumped up quickly, scrambling over the back of the couch and earning a half-hearted reprimand from Jo who had already started walking off as he rushed over to where Castiel was standing in the doorway. 

“I’ll do it,” the man gushed, sticking a hand out to Castiel in greeting. “Name’s Dean Winchester. Welcome to the loony bin.”


	4. Chapter 4

Garth walked past them while they were shaking hands, carrying a big bundle of bed linens and whistling softly to himself when he saw who Castiel had ended up with as a tour guide.

“Be nice, Dean. This isn’t One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, don’t call it a loony bin.” The lanky orderly said.

“Sure thing, Nurse Ratched.” Dean said letting go of Castiel’s hand to salute the other man and then starting down the hallway. 

Castiel rushed to catch up with his long legged strides, glancing at the doorways that they were passing and seeing names listed on little black plaques at about chest height. There was one name and then a little slash with a number beside it like ‘Crowley/124666’ and he figured that it was probably a patient number. There were two names on each little plaque and even though most of the doors were shut there were a couple that were open, revealing that a lot of his floor mates were just sitting on their beds staring at the walls still in rumpled looking pajamas and only a few were actually moving around with purpose doing something, getting ready for the day.

“You were in the emergency room earlier, right?” Dean asked ahead of him, turning slightly and grinning as he ran a hand nervously over the back of his neck. “You were talking to Charlie.”

Castiel nodded at the other man, happy that at least the person leading him around didn’t look entirely bonkers. Dean was wearing soft-looking jeans and a black Rolling Stones shirt with a long-sleeved grey undershirt pulled down his arms and hooked over his thumbs through holes torn in the seam of the cuff. The other man’s eyes were also clear and alert, making him wonder exactly what someone as put together and confident looking as Dean was doing in a mental ward. 

“I don’t remember talking to a Charlie though,” Castiel murmured lowly, keeping his arms crossed tight over his chest as Dean chuckled at him and pointed back down the hallway from where they had come.

“The girl,” Dean said, making a ‘meh’ kind of face and waving his hand abstractedly a little bit. “Well, whatever. That’s Charlie, with the red hair. You’ll meet her, my roommate. With any luck you won’t end up stuck in a room with Dick. I don’t think they’re letting Becks have roommates anymore, but we’ll find Garth at the end of the tour and see where they put you.”

Dean stopped at the end of the hallway in front of a row of windows with the same thin metal wiring strung through it as the front doors, gesturing dismissively at the room inside. 

“Rec room, pretty much the same as the day area only with better couches and books and stuff. If you’re family visits they’ll let you use it no matter what level you are so that you can talk to them. You got a family, Cas?”

He nodded again, feeling like there was something thick and gluely blocking his throat, keeping him from breathing or talking and his lungs were starting to burn a little from the lack of oxygen. When Dean put an arm around his shoulder though, shaking him slightly until he looked up, Castiel felt his constricted muscles ease at the sight of the concerned look the other man was giving him. Dean’s green eyes were dark with worry and it wasn’t until Castiel forced a smile on his face that Dean lit back up, flashing that cheeky smirk that he had seen more than anything else on the other man’s face. 

“Thought I lost you there for a minute, Cas. Anyway, there’s like a game system and stuff in there, which Charlie gets all girly over, but I never had that kind of thing growing up so it’s not like I have any real incentive to keep my level.”

“Level?” 

“Yea,” Dean scoffed, steering him in a meandering kind of way with his arm still slung over his shoulder. “Its like kindergarten, y’know? When they give you like gold stars or smiley faces or shit like that for good behavior? You have to be a certain level to get privileges and stuff, they want you to have it before they discharge you, and they drop it for the dumbest stuff too. Like I wouldn’t have to go down to the ER for coffee if the stuff up here wasn’t disgusting.”

“You were down there for the coffee?” Castiel asked confused, letting the other man lead him around was easy. He could do this, this was how he started letting someone else take control for a while so that he could get out of his head and get his work done, when they finally gave it back to him that is.

“Dumb, I know. Anyway, Charlie’s pretty torn up about having to go a couple days without Bioshock or whatever game it is she’s working on, but that just means she’s watching Groundhog Day with me tonight, sucker.”

“That’s weird that they let you be roommates with a girl.” Castiel said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants because they were sweating and he thought it would gross Dean out if he wiped them on his thighs like he usually did when they got that way. 

Dean just shrugged a bit, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye with a confused line creasing his brows. “We’re friends, its not a big deal. But yea, um...these are the showers.”

He stopped in front of two doors set into the left hand side of the hallway, set about six feet apart from each other with little signs that slid when he reached out to show Castiel how they worked. 

“So ‘In Use’ for when you’re showering,” Dean cleared his throat and looked over at him again, he felt like the other man wanted to say something else but didn’t. “Or whatever and ‘Enter’ let’s everyone know that it’s empty and okay to go in. You would think they could’ve just put vacant up there, but that’s probably just too easy for the geniuses here.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, biting his lip and pushing his glasses back up his face before tugging on his sweater a bit. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay, well you’ve got it. But no one else in this place does and we’ve got a couple of exhibitionists on this floor so just knock too unless you want to see some freaky shit. Trust me on that, knock.”

Castiel didn’t even want to imagine what someone with a mental disorder could get up to in a shower, but now that Dean had said something he couldn’t stop himself. Imagining the other man screwing some girl with wild eyes and ratted up hair into the tiled wall of the small space and this was what Gabriel always picked on him for, the whole virgin thing because it made him give everything some subtle, sexual context that made it awkward to talk to anyone because he usually ended up hard. It happened with everyone, mostly Meg, but the pizza delivery boy was not safe either. Neither was Kali, his brother’s ex-girlfriend, or Alfie that guy in his GRE study group. He didn’t even know if it was bi-curiousness or what because he had never done enough with anyone to know for sure. So he was straight because that was easier and normal and it made him focus on one thing instead of the millions of different possibilities being anything else would open up for him.

“There’s half baths in each of the rooms and one more shower down at the other end of the hall by the nurse’s station, but we try not to use that because it’s near Martin’s room and he gets grumpy when you wake him up.”

“Who’s Martin?”

Dean ignored him, grabbing loosely onto his wrist and pulling him down the other side of the building, down a hallway that was opposite the one they had just come from, making the layout of the ward a weird, squarish ‘U’ shape that had the nurse’s station situated at the top like a little umlaut that complimented how foreign all of this felt. 

“Phone’s there,” Dean continued pointing out a pay phone and Castiel hadn’t even known those existed anymore. “You can call your family, numbers on it so they can call you back if you want. Someone will come and find you if you have a call, Crowley likes to answer it, but I think it should just be whoever is closest. Also um, cafeteria is here, breakfast is soon and the food isn’t too terrible so I guess that’s a pro of this place.”

“I’m not big on eating...” Castiel said, his stomach flipping over at just the mention of food and he was trying to just focus on how Dean’s hand felt wrapped around his cardigan covered wrist because for some reason the other man’s touch helped. Dean knew what he was doing, he was sure of himself and didn’t seem like a huge wreck, he was probably something of a success story for this place and maybe if he left feeling half as good as the other man this wouldn’t be completely pointless.

“Well, you’ve got to eat man.” Dean said worriedly, lowering his voice when an angry looking man barreled by them to sit at the head of one of the tables, surveying the empty space in a predatory way that reminded Castiel just a little bit of that book American Psycho and Patrick Bateman. “They watch out for that kind of stuff here, eating disorders.”

“I don’t have an eating disorder.” Castiel replied, probably sounding harsher than he had intended to if the hurt look on the other man’s face was anything to go by. Great, just when he had thought that he was making a friend. Stupid stupid stupid. “I’m just...picky. Food isn’t appetizing sometimes.”

“Sor-ry,” the other man said, turning away from him and starting towards where the nurse’s station sat at the junction of the hallways. “Garth, Jo! Tour’s over, you can have him back now. I didn’t hurt him.”

“I wasn’t worried about you hurting him, Dean.” Jo replied blandly gesturing for Cas to follow her as Dean wandered back towards the day area, glancing back over his shoulder once at him before plopping heavily back down on the couch he had been on with Charlie and laying his head on her shoulder. “Come on hun, I’ll show you where your room is.”

Castiel followed the girl; cursing himself for alienating yet another person who was just trying to be nice to him and making a mental note to apologize to Dean later if the other man gave him the chance. His room just had one name on the door, Turner/168007 and it was closer to the end of the hall on the same side as the day area so at least he probably wouldn’t be bothered by any noise that the rest of the people on the ward might make when he finally got a chance to start on his homework.

It was a bland space, but still less institutional than he had been expecting it to be. There were two wood framed twin sized beds with a small night stand separating them. Also there were two small dressers pressed up against the wall opposite the beds and one had a wrapped cafeteria tray sitting on it along with coins and sticks of gum scattered across the scarred surface. The other was bare and Castiel assumed it was his since it was at the foot of the bed that didn’t currently have a lumpy form nestled underneath the thin blanket that the hospital provided. 

Feet were sticking out, one was missing a couple of toes and Castiel tried hard not to shudder when his mind started racing with ways that the older man watching him with a wary, tired expression on his face could have lost the digits. All he could make out were dark eyes peering out at him from a heavily, lined face settled between salt and pepper hair and several days worth of graying stubble on the man’s ebony colored jaw. 

“Hey, Rufus,” Jo began softly, pushing on the small of his back gently to force Castiel to move farther into the room. “Got a new roommate for you. His name’s Castiel.”

The man just blinked and him and harrumphed before rolling over and facing the window that was set into one wall of the room. Through it Castiel could glimpse the tops of a tree and the pointy black fence that surrounded the hospital, but not much else.

“Don’t take it personally,” Jo said, picking up a couple of papers and handing them to him. “Rufus doesn’t talk much...in fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him leave the room.”

Castiel swallowed hard and looked down at the things she had given him, one was a schedule of groups and therapies with the times they happened and where they happened listed in parenthesis underneath. It had everything from AA to an abuse survior’s group to anger management; Castiel had no idea which ones he needed to sort out his fractured mind. There were a couple of big chunks of time devoted to meals and creative therapies like the music and art stuff Garth had mentioned. 

The other was a menu, where he could circle the things he wanted to eat for the next day, there were a lot of choices, but right now, with how his stomach was twisting none of it sounding the least bit appetizing. The last sheet was a list of rules, stating all of the things that he could and couldn’t do while staying at the hospital. It outlined which were the ones that would get his level lowered(running away, stealing, suicidal behaviors) and which ones it sounded like were just frowned upon or possibly, expected(leaving the ward unsupervised, cursing, being disrespectful to other patients). There was a big part about avoiding romantic entanglement, something about all of the patients having come into the hospital for treatment alone and leaving the same way. It sounded depressing and he wondered how Dean and Charlie were getting away with being together right under the staff’s nose. 

“Dr. Mosely will go over the schedule with you when you see her in the morning and together you two will decide which groups are the best for your specific treatment. Fun stuff like art and movie nights aren’t mandatory, but it helps some people feel better to be around others so feel free to join in when Lisa gets here later. Any questions?”

Castel shook his head and bit his lip hard so that he wouldn’t blurt out that he just needed his bag and would shut himself in his room until whoever it was that was in charge decided that he could go home. He needed to call Gabriel, going over the list of things in his head that he needed his brother to get for him from his apartment as Jo smiled at him and left the room.

He sighed and moved to sit down on the bed, staring at Rufus’s back that was just rising and falling steadily under the brownish blanket that was covering him. Castiel was just so tired, when had he slept last? For more than just an hour or so before he shot up from a nightmare or suddenly remembering something that he needed to be working on or rushing to the bathroom to throw up whatever dinner he had managed to force down his throat before lying down. 

“Turn off the light,” A deep voice muttered from the blankets and Castiel nodded even though the other man couldn’t see him before getting up and flipping the switch that cast the room into semi-darkness.

He stood there for a second, trying to imagine himself in the cafeteria eating whatever food they put in front of him and being ignored by everyone else, just like in high school. Just like his whole life. 

He decided to kick off his shoes instead, stripping of his cardigan and tossing it over the top of his empty dresser and collapsing onto the bed on his stomach. Castiel’s glasses pressed hard against his face and he pulled them off, dropping them on the floor between his and the other man’s bed because his arm felt too heavy to lift them onto the night stand. He pulled his arms under his chest, imagined that it was someone caring enough to hold him like his mom used to do when he came back from school weary and resigned to the fact that he was nothing, a waste of space, invisible.

It was in that position that for the first time in a long time, he fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

It was the sound of screaming that woke Castiel up out of his dreamless slumber and at first he didn’t remember where he was, shooting up out of the bed that was smaller than his own back at the apartment and falling on the floor in a tangle of bedsheets and thin hospital blankets. He fumbled for his glasses, muttering a soft thanks to no one in particular that he hadn’t landed on them when he fell into the space between his and Rufus’s beds 

Stuffing his feet into his laceless Converse, Castiel poked his head carefully around the edge of his door only to dart back quickly when he saw a large dictionary hurtling in his direction, watching open mouthed when it bounced off the doorframe inches from where his face just was. 

“This is fucking bullshit!” A female voice yelled from the hallway and Castiel knew from his quick glance outside of his room that their appeared to be a rather heated confrontation going on between a girl with long dark hair all dressed in black and another blonde girl who was just staring at her with a look of tranquility that seemed off-kilter in a long flowing white dress. “You two always take her fucking side in everything!”

He looked back out of his doorway, stooping to pick up the dictionary and holding it in front of himself like a shield as he moved towards the back hallway that led past the rec room, away from the yelling and the confrontation that was making him feel panicky even though it looked like Garth and another older man with a grizzled beard and a trucker hat had the situation under control as they tried to calm the brunette down. 

“Ruby, you know we don’t take sides,” Garth said softly, taking a step towards the girl who had taken off her boot and was aiming it menacingly at the other girl. “Lilith said she saw you with contraband in your guys’ room and we have to make sure. We’re going to search her stuff too, you can be right there and watch me look through it.”

“She hates me,” The brunette whined dramatically, pointing at the blonde who was just smiling toothily at her. “I don’t want to be in a room with her anymore, she’s trying to sabotage my treatment.”

“Well she’s trying to kill me,” the blonde said and Castiel felt like the look on her face had to be what true insanity looked like, calm in the face of talking about being murdered smiling like it was an amusing anecdote. “She said she was going to slice me open and drink my blood because it tasted better than her favorite drug.”

“You don’t eat heroin you fucking moron!” The brunette yelled and Castiel slipped around the corner as quickly as he could when he saw that she was rearing back to throw her heavy boot at the other girl, but based on her aim when she threw the dictionary he didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire. 

He pressed his back against the wall next to the showers, shutting his eyes and pushing his glasses up into his hair so that he could rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands until he woke up from this fucking nightmare he had put himself in. The shower door closest to him opened, ejecting a man who was probably in his early thirties with dark hair that was receding in a graceful way and inexplicably wearing a black suit jacket over a red ‘I Heart NY’ t-shirt. Castiel let his glasses fall back onto his nose, which he knew had just crinkled in confusion when he saw that the man was hastily doing up the fastenings on his jeans with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

The yelling in the hallway behind him continued and the other man looked at him briefly, winking in a conspiratorial way before leaning around the corner and making a slashing motion across his throat. A couple of seconds later the girl in the white dress walked by them, floating serenely down the hallway like nothing had happened and settling herself on one of the couches in the rec room with a book that had been lying on one of the cushions. 

“Great little distraction, that girl.” The man beside him said, jutting his chin towards the rec room and putting a hand heavily on his shoulder. “Lilith just likes to see chaos, I didn’t even have to promise her anything and Ruby, well she’s just enough of a hot-head to rise to the occasion every time I need Garth and Bobby off my back for a bit. You must be the new guy then?”

Castiel nodded dumbly, feeling completely out of the loop because who just talked to strangers like that? Like they were old friends who let each on in on their devious plots? He didn’t do that, Castiel didn’t like to talk to strangers because firstly, strangers were usually dangerous and secondly, if they weren’t dangerous in the conventional sense with guns or knives or pepper spray then they were dangerous because it meant that he was going to have to stress over whether or not he had made a good first impression on them.

“Well, my boy you were the talk of the tables this morning at breakfast, your fan club was mooning over you, it was so thoroughly disgusting I could hardly hold down my Wheaties.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Castiel muttered, wondering what time it was because if he had slept through breakfast then maybe he had missed lunch too and his stomach was actually nagging emptily at him for once. 

“I’m sure you don’t angel face,” The man said following Castiel towards the other hallway where he was pretty sure he had seen a clock hanging over the pay phone when Dean gave him the tour. “Name’s Crowley by the way, I’ve pretty much figured out how to work places like this so if you have any questions or need anything then I’m the man you need to ask.”

“You answer the phone,” Castiel said, mostly to himself noting that he had about twenty minutes until lunch which was fantastic, but he just hoped that he still had an appetite by then. 

“I’m much more than a glorified receptionist,” Crowley grumbled, smiling winningly at the people they passed who were shuffling around in house robes and slippers, like a politician trolling for votes. 

Castiel envied only slightly how easy it seemed for him to interact with others because the ones that weren’t smiling back at Crowley were shrinking away against the walls in an effort to avoiding touching the accented man in the black blazer. 

He sat down on a bench that was against the wall outside of the cafeteria, pressing his hands between his knees and trying to focus on anything besides how the only people he had met on this floor were the weird, enigmatic Englishman who had sat down beside him and was still talking, saying something about Alexander the Great and how much he admired him, and Dean who he wasn’t even sure would want anything to do with him after snapping at him earlier. 

Almost as if by thinking of him it summoned him, Dean came walking out of one of the bedrooms at the end of the hall talking with that girl Charlie in hushed whispers, so caught up in his conversation that the pair ran right into a mousy-looking girl in an oversized sweatshirt coming around the corner who was smoothing down her highlighted blonde hair. He watched as Dean wrapped a brotherly arm around her shoulders, shaking his head slightly and smiling in a resigned kind of way in Charlie’s direction when the redhead gave him a pointed look.

“Hiya Becky,” Crowley purred beside Castiel, nudging him lightly in the side and nodding in the trio’s direction as they approached where they were sitting. “Long time no see.”

“Ugh, Becks really?” Charlie scoffed, looking Crowley up and down with a disgusted expression on her face. “You could do so much better.”

The other girl just shrugged slightly, looking at Crowley and Castiel on the bench with a shy smile on her face and tugging on the hem of her sweatshirt. Crowley preened under the attention of the three people, well two since Dean was just looking at Castiel with a small frown on his face as he led the two girls into the cafeteria and to a table in the far corner of the room.

“That girl is a firecracker,” Crowley said appreciatively, waggling his eyebrows meaningfully at Castiel. 

“Charlie?” 

“No,” Crowley said sounding slightly disappointed as he got up and straightened out his jacket. “That particular spitfire is a confirmed bachelorette unfortunately, just like her little friend of Dorothy there. Shame with the both of them actually, I’m more of an equal opportunity lover myself. Winchester has this brother who comes to see him and the boy has all of the grace of a drunken moose, but man if he were just a little older...”

“I don’t think I’m hungry anymore,” Castiel announced emptily because he wasn’t of fucking course he wasn’t, talking to Crowley had just made him feel like he needed to take a shower and the thought of spending the entire meal listening to the other man’s prattle was even more unappealing than the smells coming out of the cafeteria. 

“You’re going about this all wrong,” Crowley said dismissively, holding his hands out to the angry looking man that Castiel had seen during his tour with Dean earlier like they were best friends. “Dick! My old friend, how are you doing today? Feeling mellow?”

Castiel didn’t stick around to see how the other man reacted, getting up and meandering back down the way he had come so that he could go sleep away some more of his time here, Rufus seemed to have worked out the best way to manage this place.

“Castiel!” 

He turned around, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration that the urge to eat had come and gone so quickly, he couldn’t even control his own body anymore; breaking out in cold sweats and vomiting and feeling like he was hyperventilating more than feeling normal. All he fucking wanted was to be normal, that’s all he had ever wanted. 

Charlie was speed walking down the hallway towards him, her hair pulled back up into the bun that she had been wearing in the emergency room earlier. She had a determined look on her face and if Castiel didn’t know any better he would’ve sworn that she had been taking lessons from Michael, the expression was that serious and scary looking. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked getting into his body space so she forced him back against the wall of the hallway, poking hard at his chest until he winced from the pressure of her finger. 

“I’m not hungry,” Castiel said weakly, girls like Charlie intimidated the shit out of him, just like Meg had when he had first met the girl before he had gotten to know her and learned to see past the thorny exterior she put on for a lot of people. “I’m going back to my room.”

“First, you’re not allowed to just do that, when someone is nice to you the accepted response is to be nice back. You don’t get to snap at them and make them feel bad for showing concern for someone,” Charlie said waving her hands expressively in the air around them. “Second, skipping two meals gets you put on automatic self-injury watch. That means you get stuck with Garth or Bobby or Jim trailing after you everywhere and I mean everywhere, Cas. You don’t even get to shower alone. So you are going to come in there and eat something.”

“Why do you care?” Castiel snapped, having the fact that he had actually hurt Dean’s feelings thrown in his face did not help the nausea he was already feeling, but if he did vomit now it was just going to be burning stomach acid that made his throat hurt and experience had taught him that maybe if he forced some milk or something down now it would hurt less when he barfed later. “I’m not fucking anybody to you, I’m not anything to anyone here!”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Charlie hissed back at him. “You’re something to someone here and yea, we don’t know you very well but seeing you give up when you’ve just gotten here is not cool, dude. So just stop feeling like you’re the only person in this place with issues because you’re not. We’re all fucked up and we’re all working on it. So fucking work on it.”

He nodded meekly and searched for something to say to this girl that he hardly knew who cared way more than anyone he had met in a long time. “Okay. I’ll try to eat something.”

“There is no try, Cas.” Charlie said, her face lighting up in a smile as she grabbed his hand and led him back into the cafeteria which by now was mostly full and noisy with the sound of people talking and eating. “There is only do.”

She led him up to the table where Dean was sitting with the blonde girl, Becky and another boy with a dirty blonde mullet and thick black riding gloves on. Dean looked at him warily as he approached, licking his lips and tugging on the ends of his long-sleeve undershirt until it was hooked back over his thumbs from where it had been pushed up slightly on his forearms before. The boy’s green eyes fell to his own forearms and Castiel glanced down self-consciously, scratching at the bare skin there absently before he looked back up to smile meekly at the assembled group as he took the seat next to Dean that Charlie had pulled out for him.

“Guys,” Charlie said benevolently. “This is Castiel. Cas this is Ash and Becky, you already met Dean this morning.”

Castiel nodded at the assembled group, jumping in his seat slightly when a cafeteria tray was sat down in front of him on the table by a frazzled looking Jo. It was tan injection-molded plastic, exactly like the ones his high school had used and the ones the jocks had banged on the table like agitated monkeys anytime they thought something was funny, some sexist joke or when they picked on the few kids in his school that were out. He had avoided the cafeteria like the plague back then, choosing to eat lunch with Gabriel and his weird stoner friends outside rather than brave the hoards of students his own age. 

On it there was a plain hamburger with a side of vegetables wrapped in plastic; onions and pickles and tomatoes nestled neatly on a bed of fairly crispy looking lettuce. There were tater tots on the side and a small salad with little separate packages of condiments and wrapped plastic silverware. Plastic cups of instant coffee and hot water with tea bags were on each of the trays that were sat down in front of the various people at the table and as soon as Jo stepped away everyone started swapping things around, exchanging mustard for more ketchup or salads for more tater tots depending on what each person was eating. 

He sat with his hands folded in his lap, just watching because this was utter fucking shit. Cas really liked burgers, Gabe made these amazing ones for him sometimes when they visited each other that had prosciutto and arugula and this weird looking, dill and mango chutney that was fucking orgasmic, but even those he hadn’t been able to stomach the last time his older brother had made them for him so how the hell was he supposed to eat these? 

Cas liked tea though, it was a taste that he had developed over the last four years during his friendship with Balthazar who preferred Earl Grey and his London fogs to the chia and herbal teas that he liked better. Usually he could keep those down so he resolutely opened the tea bag that had been provided for him on the tray, some weird brand that was probably ordered in bulk by the hospital in order to appease all of the different people that they treated. 

He could feel eyes on him, but a glance towards the door confirmed that Jo was deep in conversation with another older woman wearing a hospital badge who almost looked like she could be her mother, supervising the cafeteria together, but really just casting cursory peeks around the room every now and then. Cas looked around the table and saw that it was Dean watching him, a soft smile playing at the corners of his cupid’s bow mouth as he watched him dip the tea bag into the hot water meticulously and reverently like it was an exact science that required precise concentration and gestures or it would be ruined. 

“Is that all you’re eating, bro?” A southern voice drawled from Ash who was sitting across from him on Dean’s other side next to Charlie.  
Castiel looked around the table, squirming under the gaze of everyone who was now looking at him and how he had picked up the tea off of his tray, pushing the rest away from himself so that he could wrap his fingers around the warm plastic mug in an effort to gain some strength from the soothing beverage. 

“Leave him alone,” Dean said beside him, offering him a sincere smile that Castiel returned, the muscles in his face feeling taunt and achy from not having moved in those directions in so long. Dean picked up his own cup of hot water and his tea bag, moving it to sit next to Castiel’s tray and taking his coffee in exchange. “There, I don’t like tea anyway. This way everyone’s happy. Right, Cas?”

He nodded slightly, feeling a lump well up in his throat when Charlie gave him her sugar packets for his tea saying that she liked her own black, Ash and Becky quickly giving up their own drinks even though it was way more than one person could possibly consume before the water got cold and useless. Castiel sipped his tea and tried to follow the conversations going on around him, but got lost again thinking about Balthazar and Meg and his family and how in the world he was going to pull himself together enough to convince a doctor that he could leave.

“Dean,” Becky said from the end of the table where she was sitting with a chair between her and the rest of the people around her. “Lisa’s here.”

The other girl had turned around her chair and was looking at a dark haired woman that had stopped to talk to Jo and the other nurse in the doorway, hefting a big milk crate full of various art supplies higher on her hip as she smiled at the other two women. He heard Dean clear his throat beside him, looking at the woman with an animated expression on his face and tapping his fingers on the table in an agitated way. 

Castiel felt his stomach twist when he saw the excited look on Dean’s face and quickly set his mug down because the off-brand tea obviously wasn’t agreeing with him and made a mental note to ask someone if his brother could bring him some tea that he knew he liked. If there was going to be one thing that might help him through this, of course it was going to be something as silly and insignificant as tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey babes! I totes got distracted this weekend by working on other stuff, something big. And let me just ask how many fics is too many to have going at once? I think I'm getting close, anyways much love and kisses to all ya'll. Please let me know how you're doing, are you okay? Have you left the house today? I'm sure someone misses you, shoot them a text. <3


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel didn't go to the art lesson, but apparently most of the rest of the floor did because he spent the next hour and a half sitting in the relative silence of the common room while everyone else except for the dark haired lady with the sunglasses he had seen earlier was in the cafeteria falling all over themselves to impress Lisa with how well they could draw a house or a tree or in Ash's case a beaver, which he had announced was his subject of choice as he helped Dean clear up the tables enough so that Lisa with all of her smiles and her big brown doe-eyes and her bouncy, genuine energy could hand out art supplies.

A small part of him had wanted to stay, but drawing and painting just reminded him of his mom and Castiel hadn't even been able to turn around the painting that she had done for him on his eighteenth birthday, the one full of spastic paint splatters with a body only vaguely painted in hunched over a piano. He had told his mom that the painting looked like music felt and it was one of the last good memories he had with her before she had started to get sick. The painting was still turned towards the wall in his bedroom, above his dresser that faced his bed because looking at it hurt, but he couldn't bring himself to take it down.

He took the time alone to make a list of things that he needed from his apartment, begging a piece of paper and a pencil off of the older woman, Ellen, who had replaced Jo at the nurse's station when her shift had ended after lunch. She seemed nice. Motherly and his heart had twisted just a little bit when she had called him, Hon in that way that only moms could manage to pull off without sounding old fashioned.

Castiel liked lists, they did a lot for him in clearing his head and he had perfected the skill in junior high and high school when he used to sit around making lists in study hall of all of things he wanted to do someday, bands he wanted to see, or experiences he would like to have before he grew up and had to get serious about school like Michael.

Growing up had come much sooner than he had thought it would though and the lists were the things that had been helping Cas through the confusion of it all up to this point, he had them scattered all over the apartment on whiteboards and post it notes and scraps of paper that he had ripped out of something before attaching them to the fridge. Every couple of days he would go through and pluck down all of the ones that he had completed, mentally patting himself on the back before tossing them in the trash, but over the last year he had been making more lists than he finished and when Meg had threatened to clear the fridge of the messily scrawled assortment of reminders a couple of months ago he had had his first panic attack.

It had been terrifying and in retrospect, afterwards when he had dragged himself out of the spray of the shower that had long since turned cold as he tried to calm himself down, it had probably been the first time that the thought of killing himself hadn't seemed entirely ridiculous. Maybe he should've gone back to that therapist that Michael had insisted they all see after their mother had died, he was pretty sure the guy only specialized in grief counseling, but he had been nice and Castiel could've gotten a recommendation to someone, hell anyone so that he hadn't ended up where he was now.

He let his mind drift to whether or not Jo and Garth had called Gabriel for him before they left, telling his older brother where he was and probably freaking the other man out more than anything else. Gabe would probably have thought they were joking at first since everything was always a joke with the chef, but Castiel knew that the other man hid a lot of his worry behind smirks and laughter and pranks so chances were he was just as stressed as Cas most of the time, just better at coping with it than he was.

"Dude, Lisa kicked me out," Ash said dropping heavily onto the other end of the couch that Castiel was sitting on, making his list using the back of one of the paperbacks that he had found on the book shelf as a table. The other man waved a heavy piece of drawing paper in his direction before settling it in his lap and looking at it with a hit of pride in his voice. "I guess she thought I meant the other kind of beaver."

Castiel glanced over at the drawing and flinched back when he saw that it indeed wasn't the type of beaver he had been thinking of either. He shook his head at the other man, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he turned back to his list.

"I think I did a good job," Ash continued petulantly beside him. "I mean its pretty life like and Georgia O'Keeffe painted nothing but vaginas and her stuff sells for millions of dollars."

"O'Keeffe painted flowers," Castiel stated blandly, shifting in his seat and trying to will away the blush that was creeping up his neck, he just wished that Ash would change the subject. "But she also painted landscapes and animals and those didn't all have veiled erotic subtext. You just drew a vagina and since there are so many women here, Lisa probably didn't want anyone getting offended or anything."

"Whatever," Ash replied, folding up the drawing and shoving it in the pocket of the flannel button down he was wearing over a faded Lynard Skynard t-shirt. "Everyone's a critic. Becky draws nothing but dicks in there and Lisa just kisses her ass about it, but one fucking pussy and everyone freaks out. You didn't want to get in on the drawing action?"

"I don't draw," Castiel muttered, scratching at his neck and adjusting his glasses on his face before sighing and adding his GRE study guides to the list of things he needed.

"Dude, I don't either." Ash admitted, leaning back on the couch in the same way that Charlie had earlier in the emergency room, like it was furniture that belonged in his living room instead of in the middle of a mental ward. "But Lisa is hot, a total MILF and I guarantee you that's the reason why most everyone is in there right now. Andy doesn't even get half that many people for music therapy when he is here."

"Well, guess she's not really my type," Castiel said and for some reason it felt true, like there was just something about the way that Lisa carried herself and her smile seemed a little too cheery to be real for him to be interested in her.

It was the same way with some of the girls at school who had perfect breasts and legs that went on for miles, but no problems. Like they were Disney princesses that had never had anything bad happen to them in their lives and Castiel just couldn't deal with that. Everyone had shit going on and he had always liked that Meg was just honest about how messed up her life was, it was comforting to know that other people struggled with finding normalcy like he did. And maybe he had read too many tragic love stories growing up, a byproduct of his mom's love for trashy romance novels and his dad's insistence that there was something better out there when he had caught Castiel reading them one night. Relationships were supposed to be a struggle, nothing good came easy and that's why he still held out hope for him and Meg even after all of these years of her dating his best friend.

"Huh," Ash huffed with a smile beside him, snatching up one of the paperbacks that had been sitting on the coffee table and flicking through it disinterestedly. "Guess Dean'll be happy to hear that."

Castiel felt his brows knit together in confusion over his glasses, but bit the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting about what how happy he bet Dean would be to hear that he had even less competition for the art therapist's attention that it seemed. The other man had practically skipped up to Lisa when she arrived, wrapping her in a tight hug and smiling widely as she pressed a drawing pad into his hands along with a box of professional looking drawing pencils.

He may be a little bit behind on his slang so he wasn't sure what 'a friend of Dorothy' was, but Cas assumed that it was the equivalent of a confirmed bachelor since that's what Crowley had referred to Charlie as in practically the same breath. So they weren't dating and Castiel wasn't sure why that information had been what made him feel better about eating lunch with the two roommates, but it had and now that he saw how Dean and Charlie acted together he knew that their relationship was more sibling-like than anything else.

"Shurley, you got a visitor boy!" Bobby's gruff voice barked from the doorway to the common room and Castiel abandoned his seat on the couch to follow the older man back towards the nurse's station, staring down at his list and chewing on the end of his borrowed pencil as he tried to figure out what it was he was forgetting, he knew it was something.

"Cassie!" Gabriel's voice brought him out of his revere right before the smaller man flung himself at him, wrapping Castiel in a rib crushing hug before his brother moved his hands up to cup his face so that he could search the younger man's face with a worried line creasing his brow. "God! I got a call from the hospital telling me that you had been admitted and you're in the psych ward. What the fucking hell is going on? Did you do something?"

"No," Castiel lied, deciding that it was better if his older brother didn't know how close he had actually come to jumping of the Brooklyn Bridge that morning. "I just felt really bad and there was no one else there to talk to so I came here and signed myself in for a bit."

"I thought you were on something," Gabriel admonished, letting go of his face in order to cross his arms sternly over his chest in a sad imitation of Michel who had always been the more intimidating of his two older brothers. "And why didn't you call me?"

"I was," Castiel hissed, pulling his brother closer in an effort to keep their conversation slightly more private even though he knew that Bobby wasn't actively trying to listen to them from where he was sitting behind the nurse's station going through a reusable shopping bag that had been sitting on the counter when Castiel walked up. "And I didn't want to bother you or Mike with this, you guys are busy and its fine I can handle it, I'm handling it."

"Obviously." Gabriel deadpanned, gesturing behind him to the neatly folded clothes Bobby was pulling out of the bag. "They told me to bring you some clothes and stuff, but I didn't have a key to your apartment so I just brought everything I had that might fit."

"Gabe all of your pants are going to be too short on me," Castiel complained, sounding more whiny than he had intended to if the raised eyebrows of his brother were anything to go by. He cleared his throat and wrapped his arms around his chest, griping the note and pencil tightly in his hand until he could feel the wood digging into his palm. "I'm going to look like a fucking moron."

"No one cares what you look like, Cassie." Gabriel replied tersely. "So you're going to have to wear sweatpants until I can get you your own stuff, big fucking deal. This isn't a fashion show; it's a hospital you really need to get your priorities straight here, baby bro."

Castiel let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair and nodding at his brother because Gabe was right. Why was he worrying about petty stuff like clothes and impressing people? Hell, half of the people he had seen were walking around in pajamas and no one seemed to care, so maybe he could just not worry about it for now. Appearances were something that didn't matter here, no one cared who his father was or who his brother's were because they were dealing with their own shit just like he was.

"Okay," Gabriel said giving him one of the winning smiles that he known for and picking up the bottles that Bobby had placed to the side of the bag. "I brought you shampoo and deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste. Y'know just the basics, a couple of changes of clothes and stuff. Kali told me to bring you some books so I got you crosswords and Sudoku, she loves that stuff but you know how I can be with numbers; all of my recipes are literally a pinch of this a handful of that. Rachel Ray can keep her fancy measuring cups, stuffs for amateurs."

"You told Kali I was here?" Castiel groaned, leaning heavily onto the counter beside them. "Why did you tell her?"

"Well she was there when the fucking call came, Cassie, and I kinda flipped my shit because I thought you were dying so I had to tell her what was going on. It's cool, she gets it she said her sister had like an anxiety disorder or something growing up so it's no big deal to her."

"It's a big deal to me, Gabe." He snapped, slamming the fist that was holding the crumpled up list and pencil down hard enough for the sound to cause his brother to jump back slightly in surprise. Castiel saw Bobby tense up out of the corner of his eye and fuck, no he did not need these people thinking he was violent on top of depressed so he forced a half-hearted laugh out and shot his brother an apologetic look. "No, it's fine. It doesn't matter if she knows."

"Are you sure, Castiel?" Gabriel asked sounding apologetic and uncertain. None of his siblings knew how to act around him anymore, not after his mom had died and Castiel just felt more out of place in his patchwork family than ever before.

"Yea, its fine," he mumbled, smoothing out his list and crossing off a couple of the things that Gabriel had managed to bring him already; toiletries, socks, and boxers because his brother had just bought brand new packages of those for him since there was no way he could wear the older man's. Castiel pushed the list across the counter towards his older brother and offered the battered pencil back to Bobby. "Look, I just need a couple more things, my own stuff from the apartment."

"How long are you going to be here?" Gabriel asked, picking up the paper and reading it with a frown that just got deeper and deeper the longer his eyes were focused on the paper.

"Two weeks at the least," Castiel replied, wincing away from the pitying look the other man gave him before Gabe just nodded and folded the paper carefully, stowing it away in the pocket of the expensive designer jacket he was wearing. "I know, just um...take my keys and go to my apartment for the rest of my clothes and books. I have a couple of papers I need to work on and all of my research is at home; I'd get it off the internet, but I'm pretty sure they aren't going to let me Google anything while I'm here."

"You probably shouldn't be worrying about school right now, Cas." Gabriel said pitching is voice low and calming because he knew that grades were a sensitive topic for the younger man. "I mean, I'm sure you can talk to your teachers or maybe Dad or Michael can and they'll give you an extension or like, medical leave or something until you're better."

Castiel shook his head quickly, feeling his throat tighten at the thought of his dad or eldest brother stepping in to clean up his messes for him yet again. Just another school thing that he couldn't handle because he was too sensitive, too fucked up to deal with his problems like an adult should be able to.

"No, I've got to finish this semester, Gabe. There are some internships that require me to have my bachelor's and I need to finish so I can be considered for them. So just get my stuff for me please and I'll owe you forever, I can't quit now when I'm so close to being done."

Bobby retrieved Castiel's keys for him from his plastic box and handed them to Gabriel. Castiel tried to swallow when he saw that his messenger bag had been stuck in the box as well with a note attached to it that he couldn't read, but it felt like his mouth had had all of the moisture sucked out of it.

"What am I supposed to do if Balthazar asks where you are?"

"He won't," Castiel replied bitterly.

Balthazar was usually too caught up in whatever he had going on to notice when his roommate wasn't around unless he wanted an audience that wasn't Meg. Not that having an audience ever deterred the Brit from having loud, vigorous sex with the striking brunette woman practically anytime Castiel was trying to study. It was fucking torture because now he knew exactly what Meg sounded like in bed and it only served to fuel his jealousy towards his friend and self-loathing that he had been too nervous to make his move when he had the chance.

"Oh-kay," Gabriel said rolling his eyes slightly before pulling him into another tight hug, which Castiel returned tentatively. He never used to have a problem with hugs, but it had become a problem over the last year when his body had started acting out on him anytime it wanted to, he was pretty certain that he wouldn't be getting a boner around his brother though, adopted or not it was still weird as shit. "I love you Castiel. And you're going to be fine, asking for help is a big step and I'll do better so that you feel like you can come to me in the future."

"It's not anything you did," he told his brother softly, closing his eyes and letting the other man squeeze him one last time before stepping away with an embarrassed shrug.

"Yea, well...whatever, Cassie. You might not be in high school anymore, but I'll still kick whoever's ass I need to to make sure you're safe, even if that ass is yours. So don't tempt me young man," Gabriel pointed a stern finger at him before smirking sadly and turning towards the double doors of the ward. "I'll try to make it back later tonight with your stuff, but if the dinner rush is crazy I will have to go help out at the restaurant so it might be tomorrow at the latest."

"That's fine, Gabby." Castiel said forcing a grateful smile on his face and using his brother's nickname from when they were kids and Gabe would just never shut the hell up about anything. "You know where to find me, it's not like I'm going anywhere."

His brother barked out a laugh before heading out the doors that Bobby buzzed open for him, waving as he went. Castiel turned towards the older man, licking his lips nervously and looking meaningfully at his messenger bag that was sitting right there, with at least half of the things he needed to get started on his homework.

"Not happening," Bobby replied, toeing the plastic tub under the nearest desk and handing Castiel the stack of clothes and toiletries he had removed from the bag Gabriel had brought him instead. "Dr. Mosely's going to talk to you in the morning and then maybe you can have your schoolwork, until then the only books you're allowed to touch are the ones your brother just brought you."

"But Garth said—"

"Garth says a lot of half-cocked bullshit," Bobby groused good-naturedly. "But I've been working with Dr. Mosely and her patients for long enough to know that she would have my head if I gave you that bag."

Castiel opened his mouth to protest again, but was cut off by the older nurse pulling his hat off and running a hand tiredly through his thinning hair. It was a gesture that reminded him so much of how his Dad's hair always stood on end when he was writing that all of the fight just drained out of him as he looked at the exhausted, weathered man before him.

"Cut me some slack, kid." Bobby said, eyeing the people that had started to trail down the hallway from the cafeteria some chattering and laughing with paint smears on their faces or clothes and others just passing by wordlessly like wispy ghosts. "It's your first night here and that is already going to be bad enough without you stressing out about some stupid homework assignment. Try to relax, I promise its not going to kill you."

He nodded meekly and headed down the hallway towards his room, intending to put away the clothes before finding some way to keep himself busy for the rest of the evening. Castiel dropped the stack heavily onto the top of the dresser, glancing over at Rufus who hadn't appeared to move since he had last seen him, the only evidence that he had being the fact that there was a partially consumed hamburger sitting on the cafeteria tray that had been placed on the other man's dresser.

He started sorting through the things Gabriel had brought him, huffing out a laugh when he saw a shirt for his brother's restaurant _Isolani_ , a word that his brother heard Michael use once when talking about some company he was trying to buy out and liked, not realizing until later that it was a chess term and just made him look like a dork. But Gabe had ran with it, decorating the restaurant in stark whites and blacks and pretty much making it the most exclusive restaurant in the city within months of his appearance on _The Today Show_.

There were also a lot of sweat pants and pajama pants, shirts that were old and stretched and worn out so they would probably fit him even though he was taller than Gabriel by a good six inches. Castiel put it all away neatly and meticulously, arranging it like he did his own clothes back home even though there was barely enough to fill the top drawer of the dresser. He put his toiletries on top with the tallest bottles in the back, labels all turned the same way so that he could read them with or without his glasses on.

"Someone came by for you," Rufus muttered behind him, drawing his attention to the other man who was peering out at him from the tangled blankets he was wrapped up in. "Left you a note."

Castiel glanced towards his bed, noticing for the first time a sheet of folded drawing paper propped up on his dented pillow with his name 'Cas' written in precise, blocky script. He crossed over and picked up the paper, pushing his glasses up his nose as he flipped it open to see a drawing of one of the plastic mugs that had been on his lunch tray. It was very realistic with shading and little lines of steam coming out of the top of the glass; a string for a tea bag was hanging loosely out of the glass with a little tag attached to the end. Torn sugar packets and spilled granules were sitting next to the cup along with a spoon that had moisture beading off the top, threatening to drip down onto the white page beneath it.

He had never been very good at drawing, but an appreciation for art was instilled in him and all of his siblings by his mother when they were children, back when summers were spent going to every art museum in the city and traipsing around Coney Island with an appreciation for the Freakshow that most people never really had because Castiel could see the beauty in the deformities, just like he saw the beauty in Picasso's cubism. When he was younger being different had been something to aspire to, Castiel wasn't quite sure when that had stopped being true for him.

The drawing wasn't signed and he had no idea who he could have made such an impression on that they were already leaving him cryptic, beautiful anonymous presents, but on closer inspection he saw it. Written really small on the tea tag, looking so much like the logo for the tea had been drinking at lunch that at first he hadn't noticed it were the words, "Welcome to LICH. See you at the movies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who had a day off and did nothing else but write fanfiction? This gal! So since I literally didn't go outside all day feel free to shower me with some human interaction via comments. I see that some of you like this, tell me what you want! I live to please you guys.
> 
> Also, I have a special place in my heart for clueless!Cas. *sigh*


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel was going to say something, figure out who had sent him the picture and at least thank them for it because it was beautiful and thoughtful and someone had spent a lot of time on it. They deserved to hear how much it meant to him to have someone not look though him like he was a pane of glass for once, but when he made it back to the common room eyeing the other patients that he passed in an effort to try to suss out who the mystery artist was he had realized exactly how many people had been in Pam's art lesson.

Practically everyone was sporting paint embedded under their fingernails or hands that were tinted graphite grey from moving over recently made pencils marks, there was no way in hell he was going to be able to figure out who had done the drawing, not without asking around and that was the whole stranger thing coming back to bite him because just the thought of talking to anyone besides Ash or Charlie or Dean or even fucking Crowley made his throat dry and achy.

So he stuck the drawing into the crossword puzzle book that Gabriel had brought him, being careful when he folded it into the newspaper print pages so that it wouldn't get messed up and went to sit on the couch behind Becky and Charlie who were sitting cross-legged on the floor with the coffee table between them playing a heated card game that he didn't really understand the rules of. He could play poker, Balthazar had taught him that way back in their freshman year and both of his brothers had learned the hard way that Castiel's poker face was a force to be reckoned with, but whatever they were playing involved a lot of hand slapping and excited, girly squealing that was giving him a bit of a headache.

"Cas," Charlie began seriously, marking down on the scoresheet that she was keeping for the two girls' game with a little, triumphant smirk on her face. "We missed you during art class."

"I don't draw," He said, running a hand over the back of his neck as he did because was this going to be a thing that happened every time he didn't do something that the rest of the floor seemed to do?

If so maybe he should just suck it up and go watch everyone else draw so that he didn't have to hear about it later. Even if it made his heart hurt from missing his mom and the way she smelled like turpentine faded acrylics and how the parts of her fingers where she would hold the charcoal that she used to sketch was permanently tinged black. He had always just enjoyed watching her work when he was a kid and maybe he could find the same peace watching other people do something similar.

"I don't either," Charlie continued, seeming unconcerned about the pained expression that Castiel was sure was on his face. "But there are a couple of people here who are really good, it's kind of fun to just screw around while they paint all serious and stuff. You should see mine and Dean's room; it looks like a kindergarten teacher's worst nightmare. Finger paintings as far as the eye can see."

He smiled weakly when he thought of what the pairs' room probably looked like, Dean's portion covered in posters of swimsuit models looking a lot like Balthazar's half of their dorm had before the Brit started dating Meg and taking decorating advice from Castiel with Charlie's finger paintings encroaching on the other man's side like a primary colored disease spreading across the walls. Castiel thought about sticking up his mystery drawing on his own wall, but if the artist hadn't even signed it maybe they were shy and he could understand that so maybe he would just keep it to himself, keep it something private that might make him feel better if he started getting down.

"Where is Dean, anyway?" Becky asked, licking her lips nervously and glancing back at Castiel who was sitting next to where she had her back propped up against the couch.

"You know how he gets after Lisa comes by," Charlie replied rolling her eyes at the other girl and making a jerk off motion with her hand that earned a snorting laugh from Becky. "Artists can be so temperamental."

"Yea well, he's missing out on all of the lovely company." Becky said giggling, leaning her shoulder into Castiel's leg and glancing up at him meaningfully before flinching back when the table jerked between her and Charlie, screeching slightly across the tiled floor. "Ow! Shit, Charlie."

"Body space, Becks." Charlie chided gently, giving the girl a pointed look that Castiel couldn't even begin to understand. "Don't want you getting in trouble."

"I fucking bet," Becky sneered, her mousy face looking suddenly vicious and feral as she clambered to her feet and tossed her cards down on the table before stalking over to sit next to Crowley who just smiled at her approach like a wolf charming an unsuspecting lamb.

"Ignore her," Charlie said, sighing to herself and gathering up the scattered cards, shuffling them expertly and holding the fanned out deck towards Castiel. "Pick a card."

"What was that about?" He asked, leaning forwards with his crossword puzzle book in his lap to pluck out a card. Castiel gave it a cursory glance, the ace of spades before placing it on the top of the deck like Charlie gestured for him to do.

"Becky is um...well I don't like to talk about other people's business," Charlie said softly, flipping through the cards with practiced movements turning them and shuffling them until she started to deal them out solitaire style. "Just know that she's not supposed to be within two arms lengths of any male patients."

"Dean was hugging her earlier," Castiel murmured, watching Charlie's sure movements enthralled when she flipped over the top card on her reserve pile, his ace of spades, giving it a satisfied little tap before smiling up at him.

"Is that your card?"

Castiel nodded quickly, knowing that his eyes were probably as round as saucers because sleight of hand was just another thing that he had never been good at as a kid even with all of the magic kits he bought at the joke shop that Gabriel liked to visit. "How did you do that?"

"Cas, they'd kick me out of the alliance of magicians if I told you that." Charlie said ruefully, offering him the pencil she had been using to keep score before starting to set out another game of solitaire, squared up in perfect little piles on the table before her. "And with Dean and Becks...it's different. She's surprisingly realistic when it comes to who she hits on. I'm kinda stunned she even tried with you, but then again the girl wouldn't respect a dibs if it bit her on the butt."

"Dibs?" Castiel asked softly, feeling the sweat that he hadn't even noticed make his shirt stick to his back.

He swallowed hard and flipped to the first page of his crossword puzzle book, drawing an idle little scribble in the corner of the page of some made up language that he and Anna used to use when they were younger and bonding over being the only two kids in the house after Gabe and Mike moved out. Charlie probably knew who sent him the drawing; he would only have to ask. She had been in there, right there finger painting with Dean and acting goofy and being an easy going early twenty something who was probably used to having secret admirers.

Cas was not that kind of twenty two year old. People didn't just give him things without some kind of hidden motive or special occasion being involved. Balthazar had bribed him with tickets to see the Pixies that he had claimed were for Castiel's birthday about six months ago, but really it was so that he and Meg could have the apartment to themselves for their anniversary, which just happened to fall the same day of the concert two weeks after his birthday. Coming home to find the chain lock in place inside the door, effectively keeping him out of his own house, had been an unwelcome reminder of how much of a third wheel he was amongst the people he claimed to be friends with.

Charlie ignored his question anyway, whether it was on purpose or not he couldn't tell because she was just so focused on her game that she might not have heard him. So he folded himself up on the couch with his puzzles, trying not to think of the drawing that he had spent twenty minutes sitting on the edge of his bed staring at and badgering Rufus about who had left it, but apparently the older man's back had been towards the door and all he had noticed was that it wasn't there before lunch and when he had gotten up to go to the bathroom later it was.

The drawing that was lurking folded up in the back of the book that he was holding, so close that if he wanted to he could pull it out and look at it again. His fingers itched to do so, to feel the way that whoever had drawn it had pressed the pencil firmly into the paper, leaving slight indentations like the spaces between piano keys that he used to feel against his fingertips hours after he had finished playing. Castiel could imagine soft, sleepy music playing in the background when the drawing had been coming to life under the artist's sure hands even though the cafeteria had in all likelihood probably been pretty loud like it had been at lunchtime during Lisa's art lesson. But it was special; just for him and Cas wasn't ready to share it with anyone else so it stayed buried in the book instead.

He lost himself in the simple, monotonous task that the crosswords provided him humming under his breath as he worked and periodically pushing his glasses back up his nose or running a hand through his hair when a clue for the puzzle stumped him. It was almost fun, working on something that wasn't really challenging but still required paying attention and there wasn't a deadline on it; which was honestly probably the best thing about the brain-teaser. Castiel could put it down and pick it up at his leisure and not feel like his chest was caving in or the world was going to spin off of its axis if he didn't finish it by a certain time. It was freeing.

Castiel didn't even notice that it was dinnertime until a paper was being waved in front of his nose by Ellen; it was the same menu thing that Jo had given him earlier where he was supposed to circle what he wanted to eat the next day.

"Need that before you go to sleep, sugar. Otherwise you'll be eating burgers and grilled cheese again tomorrow." Ellen said, giving him a wink before heading back towards the nurse's station and a stack of the same kind of papers that were waiting for her on the desk there.

"The grilled cheese is actually pretty epic," Charlie said, stretching from where she had moved to sit beside him on the couch at some point; reading her faded, well-worn copy of _The Hobbit_ that he had seen her with. "Y'know for hospital food. I'm gonna go see if Dean is up to coming to dinner go grab us a table, will you Cas?"

Part of him wanted to ask why the other man wouldn't be coming to dinner, Dean had seemed fine earlier. In fact, he was probably one of the most upbeat people in this place besides Crowley who just seemed to _want_ to be in the hospital more than anything else, but after Charlie's cryptic explanation for why Becky wasn't supposed to touch people he figured he might be better off not knowing what was going on with his green-eyed tour guide.

Castiel headed towards the cafeteria, taking the long way around so that he could drop off his puzzle book in his room. Pausing there long enough to change into a shirt that wasn't entirely soaked in sweat and smooth out the creases that he had put into the drawing when he had folded it. He cast around for somewhere he could put it without it getting torn or crinkled before finally deciding that under his pillow was probably the safest place, that's where he had kept important stuff as a kid; stuff that he wanted to look at before he went to sleep or would keep bad dreams away through the powers of osmosis and a child's imagination.

When he rounded the corner at the bottom of the hall, slipping his cardigan back on over the old grey New York Marathon t-shirt that Gabriel had brought him that Castiel knew really belonged to Michael because his oldest brother was the runner in the family, he paused outside of the door marked 'Bradbury/720904' and 'Winchester/091808' wondering if he should check to see if Dean and Charlie were ready, but he could hear hushed voices coming from inside the dimly lit room.

He chanced a peek inside, ducking back when he saw Dean pulling a long sleeved plaid button down shirt on, his heart doing a weird little flip when he saw how muscled the other man was and feeling entirely self conscious of his own wiry frame that used to be strong too before stress and nausea had cause him to stop eating more than a couple of bites a day. Dean looked like the kind of guy that ended up on the covers of the Men's Health magazines that Michael kept around his swanky Upper West Side apartment and Castiel...well, didn't. No wonder no one wanted him.

"I just feel stupid, Charlie." Dean muttered to the girl petulantly where she was sitting on one of the beds in the room, playing with a couple of pencils that she had found there holding them like chopsticks and sighing to herself.

"I miss sushi," She said, ignoring Dean's statement and clicking the pencils together in his direction like she was going to pinch him.

"Not helpful," Dean groused, hurriedly doing up the buttons on his shirt and tugging on the sleeves with a grimace. "I should've just kept it to myself, I don't know why I let you talk me into doing such bonehead shit sometimes."

"Because I'm always right about these kind of things," Charlie said, nudging his boots in his direction before standing up and putting her hands on her hips impatiently. "Besides I want to see you happy and you two would be the absolute cutest. I'm not going to be here forever Dean, I need someone to be the angel on your shoulder once I'm gone."

Castiel decided that he had heard enough, maybe Lisa wasn't really a therapist just like a volunteer or something. It probably wouldn't be against the rules for her to date a patient once they discharged and it really shouldn't bother him so much that Charlie was trying to set Dean up with her. He didn't even like guys, okay maybe he appreciated them from afar sometimes, but it always became weird when he started thinking of it in terms beyond that; he could barely look Alfie in the face anymore after giving the other man his number so that he could call about some GRE flashcards that Cas had made. It had felt too much like begging for a date and the pitying look on the other man's face had just confirmed that he really had been acting weird around his study partner even though he had been trying his damndest not to.

After seeing all of the shit that Michael dealt with in junior high and high school, getting picked on by every intolerant jock in school for just being the president of the Gay/Straight Alliance; Castiel didn't want to imagine what kind of flack he would get for acting on any bicurious feeling he might have. No, straight was easier. He could just pine after Meg forever until someone finally got desperate enough that they settled for him; Cas knew that the kind of relationship that his parents had had together wasn't in the cards for him. Not as long as the girl he was in love with was dating his best friend.

He was still trying to sort out his feelings when he headed into the cafeteria and sat down at the same table that Ash was already sitting at, still wearing the thick driving gloves that he had been wearing earlier and swearing up and down to Bobby that he could hear secret government radio chatter through the fillings in his teeth anytime metal touched his skin. Just when Castiel had started to think that maybe there were more than a handful of normal people in this place, he heard something else that threw him for a loop. Dick and Crowley were speculating at a nearby table about how muffins made out of babies might taste and Ruby and Lilith were laughing over something like they hadn't been threatening to murder each other just hours before.

"Hey, Cas."

Castiel looked up from where he had dropped his gaze to the scared wooden tabletop, flinching away from a pretty imposing glare that Dick had leveled at him once the older man had realized that Cas was eavesdropping. Dean was standing there, looking less self-assured than he had earlier in the day and biting on his lip nervously before quickly taking the chair next to him, again at the head of the table with Charlie settling on the other side of him with an amused smile on her face.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel said, clearing his throat and nodding thanks at Bobby when he sat a tray with grilled cheese and tomato soup in front of him on the table.

It smelled amazing and when Dean wordlessly moved his tea to sit next to Castiel's tray again, looking at him in askance before taking his glass of ice water off of his tray in exchange that little gesture is what steeled his resolve that he was going to fucking eat this, at least some of it. He could see the worry in Dean and Charlie's faces when he didn't immediately reach for his silverware and it reminded him of Anna; how she would always always ask if he was ok. To the point that it became annoying, but he could never disappoint her so he would choke down whatever food was in front of him and just pray that it wouldn't come up later even though it almost always did.

Dean smiled widely at him when he took the first bite of grilled cheese, nodding with surprised eyes towards Charlie when she commented that she had told him so, right? Castiel instinctively smiled back at Dean, because something about the other man's elation was infectious and then he blushed because the image of Dean walking around his room with his red and gold plaid shirt unbuttoned flashed suddenly through his mind only the memory had changed so that Dean was smiling just for him.

And that shouldn't make him hard, probably wouldn't have if it had been anyone else, but Castiel could admit that Dean was a good looking guy. All strong jaw line and wide shoulders and light brown hair that had probably never even seen an emo phase in its perfect life. The kind of guy that girls swooned over and called rugged, the kind of guy that Castiel definitely _did not_ have dreams about when he watched too many episodes of Dr. Sexy M.D. in a row with Michael or Meg. Dreams that involved all kinds of things that he had only read about online along with all of his other knowledge about sex because his practical knowledge was non-fucking-existent, not that he had dreams like that about other guys. No.

He shifted in his seat and just thanked god that he hadn't decided to put on any of the pants that Gabriel had brought him because there would be no way he could hide an erection in any material that was thinner than denim if he had to suddenly bolt out of here in embarrassment. Castiel just willed it away, tried to think of things that had always worked in the past like stray kittens or starving children, stuff that would make the guilt override the hormones and make him sad probably, but bonerless and not scaring off the few friends he was trying to make here.

"Are we still playing?" Ash asked around a mouthful of lasagna, gesturing with his plastic fork towards Charlie. "Or did we decide that Bradbury won yesterday?"

"The game never ends, Ash." Dean stated seriously, taking a bite of his own grilled cheese after dunking it into the bowl of soup on his tray. "Its not a winner or losers kind of thing."

"Dude, you have so many games that I never know which one ends up with someone coming out on top or not." Ash grumbled before getting a serious look on his face. "I'll go first, Edwin Armstrong."

"Who the hell is that?" Charlie asked, sounding incredulous and winking at Castiel conspiratorially as she elbowed Ash in the side. "You made that one up."

"Did not, "Ash protested. "Guy invented FM radio, he's the reason we're all going to get brain tumors. Jumped out of a building."

"Oh-kay," Dean said rolling his eyes. "Um...Van Gogh, shot himself in the chest."

"You always say Van Gogh," Becky muttered, sliding her tray onto the other end of the table with an apologetic glance towards Charlie. "I don't think this is a nice game by the way. Its freakin' morbid."

"You just say that because you aren't any good at it," Ash drawled.

"Francesca Woodman," Dean interrupted, pointing his finger at Becky with a teasing smile on his face. "If you stay you play, Becks. Woodman, photographer, concrete nosedive."

"What is the game?" Castiel asked, furrowing his brow because he knew who Van Gogh was of course, but Woodman was a pretty obscure artist.

He and his mom had gone to the Guggenheim to see a showcase of her work just months before the diagnosis came, he could still remember how happy she had been then even though what they had thought at the time were ulcers had kept her from eating a lot when he had taken her to Three Guys for lunch. Greek food still made his stomach churn and he hadn't been back to their favorite restaurant since she had died.

"They're naming people who've committed suicide." Becky said disapprovingly.

"But not just that," Charlie added quickly. "You have to know what they did for a living and how they offed themselves or you're out."

"What happens when there's only one person left?"

"I don't think we've figured that out yet," Ash said with a shrug. "That's probably why no one ever really wins, no incentive. Right, Dean?"

Castiel saw the other man glance at him and rub at his jaw in a contemplative way before nodding his head slowly. He remembered what Dean had said to him earlier about there not being any incentive to keep his level and Cas wondered not for the first time what his new friend was actually doing here when he seemed so together and popular and outgoing.

"Jon Dough!" Becky said loudly before lowering her voice quickly when Bobby shot her a disapproving look. "Porn star, hung himself."

"You would," Charlie laughed, tossing a piece of crust off of her grilled cheese at Becky who was eating some plate full of steamed vegetables that looked unappetizing as hell. "Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, purposely got a snake to bite her."

"Hardcore," Ash marveled, pushing his tray away with a sigh. "You in, Cas? If you stay, you play."

"He doesn't have to play," Dean muttered under his breath, glancing at him again with a faint pinkish tinge on his cheeks. "You don't have to play, Cas."

"No, it's fine." Castiel said, carefully putting down his spoon and picking up his tea-something chamomile this time, probably so it would make everyone calm and sleepy. "Um...Bob Welch, guitarist, Van Gogh'd himself."

"Fleetwood Mac." Dean said softly beside him, smirking and biting his lip at the same time like the fact that Castiel knew anything about the band had surprised him, but that he hadn't meant to let it show.

Cas decided that it was an expression that could compete with some of Meg's best adorable pouty faces. He cleared his throat in an effort to get his mind off of that track; Dean was straight, _he_ was straight. Being in a mental ward was not any excuse for suddenly deciding he could indulge in those kind of thoughts, it only led to trouble and for him that meant panic attacks and cold showers and sleepless nights with a stomach that wouldn't stop roiling.

They continued going around the table with the game for a couple more turns, Castiel kept naming musicians just because that's what he knew; he noticed that Dean kept doing artists and authors, all of Charlie's were women, and Ash was just all over the place with politicians and serial killers and athletes. Becky got knocked out after two turns because everyone voted that David Carradine did not count since his death via autoerotic asphyxiation had been an accident.

It wasn't until he was watching Dean laugh, little crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes and the horrible fluorescent lighting playing off of the natural highlights in his hair when he tipped it back to clutch and his side and try to get his breathing back under control that Castiel realized not only had he eaten practically everything on his tray, including the lime green jello that Gabriel would have gagged over if he had seen him eating it, but that he wasn't feeling nauseous. Not even in the slightest.

And then he realized he was staring, because everyone had suddenly gotten really quiet and Dean wasn't laughing anymore just staring at him too. Charlie was sitting beside Dean with her eyes wide and covering her mouth in the same way that Anna had when they had watched their kitten (now the most annoyingly cuddly cat ever) carefully curl up in the crook of their dad's neck one time when he had fallen asleep at his desk while writing.

Castiel cleared his throat and searched for something to do with himself, something that would take everyone's attention off of him because he wasn't used to it and it was too much too fast for him to deal with. He got up, breathing a thankful sigh that his erection had faded to something he could write off as just being the fabric of his clothes laying weird and went to put his tray on the big cart that he had put the one from lunch on, muttering that he would see everyone in the common room when the movie started and escaped to his room.

"Someone's got a crush," Crowley sing-songed when he passed the other man in the hallway and all Castiel could do was duck his head and wrap his arms around his chest and walk faster.

It was nothing because Cas was in love with Meg. Falling all over himself, worshipping the ground she walked on, putting his trench coat over puddles so that she could walk across in love with Meg. _Casablanca_ , _Gone With the Wind_ , old timey movie in love with Meg. But Dean was nice and funny and he didn't have to try so hard to not be weird around the other man; try to hide how bad things had actually gotten with the not eating and being depressed like he did with Meg because they were in a psych ward and being weird was kind of a prerequisite for being here.

Meg had her problems, her family that she hardly spoke to and all of the stuff with not being able to hold down a job, but it was normal stuff and she could deal with it. She had Balthazar to help her and Cas had no one, it was nice to feel like someone might understand and not judge him for the crazy things going on in his head half the time. And Dean was his friend, it was nothing.

It was not a crush, he just admired the other man for being so easy going and intelligent about cool stuff like art and books without even seeming to have to work at it like Cas did with school. Dean was just...perfect. In a way that he never would be and it was not a fucking crush.

He spent about twenty minutes rationalizing all of this out in his room, listening to the deep, even breathing of his roommate that told him Rufus was asleep and staring out the window at the rapidly darkening Brooklyn skyline like it would open up and reveal that his life was just one big joke with a very unfunny punch line. Castiel had already decided that God was a malicious bully, cackling over their dilemmas like a schoolboy burning up ants with a magnifying glass, but really this was all getting to be a bit much.

When he went to join everyone else in the common room, Castiel was surprised to find that there were only about fifteen people out of the thirty or so he had figured out were on the floor sprawled out on the various couches and chairs that had been turned to face the television mounted in the corner more fully. The movie had already started playing and Charlie earned a rousing shush from everyone in the room when she squeaked and waved him over to where she and Dean had commandeered a couch front and center of the collective group.

Castiel settled beside her, hugging the armrest on his right hand side like it would be the only thing that could save him; like in the event of a plane crash it could turn into a flotation device. He huffed out an unamused chuckle and told himself not to look over at Dean when he realized that his gaze had already shifted over to the other man who had his arm draped loosely across the back of the couch behind Charlie's shoulders and was watching the screen with a fond expression on his face, mouthing the lines to himself seconds before they were spoken by the actors.

He tried not to think about how Dean's hand was right there almost touching his shoulder, the sleeve of his plaid shirt hiking up a bit to show off the musculature of his wrist and the veins that weren't as pronounced as Castiel's under the other man's tan skin. Castiel remembered how Dean had just draped an arm over his shoulder like it was nothing when he had been giving him the tour so maybe it wouldn't be weird if he leaned into the other man's hand just a little bit. He wrote it off as trying to get comfortable as he shifted a little closer to Charlie on the couch and not as wanting to feel like he could breathe again like had happened earlier when Dean had touched him.

Because he was having just a little bit of trouble breathing and swallowing and sweating and maybe he should have just stayed in his room and done crossword puzzles until he passed out. If he passed out; Castiel was feeling entirely too awake, chamomile tea be damned and it didn't help that when he finally felt Dean's fingers brush against his upper shoulder through his cardigan it was like someone had just shocked him with a live wire and he flinched in the exact same way too.

He could feel someone looking at him, but he didn't tear his eyes off of the screen and Bill Murray because if only he could go back and do over a couple of days until he got it right maybe his life would be better. And he didn't want to see the question on her face if it was Charlie and if Dean was looking at him he definitely didn't want to see that because it was going to just ruin his carefully constructed wall of self control that he had just spent all of that time building so that he wouldn't dwell too much to the image that was flitting through his mind of Dean on the cover of one of his mom's old romance novels.

Castiel tried not to move when he felt something touching him again, slow and tentatively trailing across the seam at the top of his shoulder on his cardigan and up to the stretched out neckline of Michael's old shirt where it was too wide and left his skin exposed along the curve where his neck met his shoulder. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, swallowing hard when Dean's hand stopped there, just shy of touching his skin and settled there like it was the most comfortable position for his arm to be in.

And it probably was, there was no way that Dean could possibly know what it was doing to him to feel someone, anyone be that close to touching him. Someone who wasn't family and his body was miles beyond caring that it wasn't Meg and it wasn't a girl because he was so fucking hard that he thought he was going to explode.

Castiel couldn't remember the last time that he had felt someone who wasn't one of his siblings willingly and knowingly press their skin against his and if he had known how touch deprived he was then maybe he would've spent the time in his room jerking off to his old standby Meg fantasies instead of having a mini-freak out over something that was probably just being caused by him not being used to someone being so nice to him. That had to be what it was with Dean, because it was not a crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening with this one too guys. The thing where my chapters get longer and longer because my characters just want to do stuff that I have to write because its adorable or genius and I only freaking think of it when I sit down to write. So I'm sorry that this one is so much longer than the others, but I'm not really because you like it don't you? My insanity must be catching.
> 
> Jessi, keep an eye out for clueless!Cas dream chapters in the very near future.


	8. Chapter 8

He threw it up, all of it.

As soon as the movie was over and the credits were rolling and Dean stopped touching him the nausea hit him like a tidal wave pulling him under and suffocating him; tasting like lime green bile and everything that was wrong with his life. Cas barely made it to his and Rufus's ensuite half bath before it came pouring out of him, burning his throat and making tears well up in his eyes as he fumbled to keep his glasses from falling into the toilet while he heaved over the porcelain bowl.

"Dude, you weren't kidding about food not agreeing with you," Dean commented poking his head around the corner of the door before the rest of his body followed and he leaned against the doorframe with his nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Yea, man." Charlie agreed, standing on tiptoe to peek over his shoulder at Castiel as he firmly shut the lid of the toilet and flushed it before setting his glasses on the back of the tank. "That's super gross."

 _Kill me now._ He thought burying his face in his arms where he had crossed them on top of the toilet and groaning weakly at the pair, hoping that it would be enough to make them go away so that he could feel terrible and wallow in how miserably confusing his life was without an audience to judge him for it.

"Hey it's okay, Cas." Dean said and Castiel felt him crouch down next to him, rubbing soothing circles on his back and why did it make him feel so much better to have the other man touching him? "You kept it down better than I did my first day."

Maybe it was just having anyone touch him at all because when Charlie moved into the small space to help Dean pull him to his feet so that he could brush his teeth using the toothbrush and toothpaste that the other man retrieved for him from the top of his dresser, the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach didn't go away when it was just the redhead there with him. He smiled weakly at Charlie and watched her skip over to the doorway of the bedroom, peeking out down either side of the hallway warily before spinning back to look at him meaningfully in the bathroom mirror.

"What?" he croaked out, ducking his head to get some of the water that was running out of the tap so that he could rinse out his mouth again, ignoring how close Dean was to him sitting on the toilet lid and fiddling with his glasses with a small smile on his face.

"Nothing," Charlie said quickly, meandering around the room a little bit until she plopped down on his bed, bouncing on it a bit and pointing questioningly at Rufus's sleeping form. She shrugged and swung her feet off the floor. "Just not used to walking on the wild side like Dean is."

"Translate," he said weakly holding his hand out to the other man for his glasses which Dean placed carefully in his hand.

"We're not supposed to go in each other's rooms," Dean explained with a sheepish smile. "Pretty much the one rule I've never broken actually so I guess you're a special exception, Cas."

"Lucky me," he said sarcastically, sliding his glasses back on and instantly feeling horrible for being mean to Dean because the other man's smirk faltered and faded before he told them all he had to go and left the room with a walk that was devoid of the swaggering confidence that Castiel had already come to associate with the other patient.

"Open mouth, insert foot." Charlie deadpanned, scooting back on his bed towards the headboard and picking up his pillow to hold it against her chest.

He held out a hand to stop her before she ended up sitting on his drawing, but she saw it before he said anything. And the look on her face was just too weird, too much like how she had looked at him in the cafeteria when she had caught him staring at Dean for Castiel not to blush all the way to the tips of his ears and start to sweat.

"This is nice," she said, running her fingers over the paper and a childish part of him wanted to snatch it out of her hand so that she didn't smear the graphite and make the drawing fade before he got a chance to even figure out who sent it to him. "Very detailed, you must really like tea."

"I didn't do it," Castiel admitted, plopping down on the bed across from her and clasping his hands together in his lap while she leaned back on his bed and placed the drawing in the space between them on the sheets that had gotten twisted during his earlier nap. "I uh...I was talking to my brother and when I came back it was here. Someone left it for me and Rufus said he didn't see who it was."

"So that wasn't your boyfriend or something you were talking to earlier?"

"No," Castiel said quickly, shaking his head and swallowing and trying not to show how much that question both offended him (Gabe as his boyfriend? Gross.) and scared him (Was it obvious to other people that his thoughts sometimes strayed towards not completely straight?). "Gabriel is my brother, definitely not my boyfriend. Brother."

"Oh, well. That's probably why he seemed so worried about you." The other girl nodded down at the paper and widened her eyes conspiratorially. "Someone must like you."

"You think so?" he asked, fixing where one of the corners had gotten folded over at some point and smoothing the paper against the hard, hospital mattress.

"Uh huh," Charlie said smiling at him toothily. "That's not the kind of thing you just do for someone you aren't interested in. It probably took them awhile, it's really good. Like professional artist good."

"It is, isn't it?" Castiel said, letting his mouth quirk up when he thought of all of the artist jargon his mom would be spewing out if one of her students had turned this in to her. He figured that it would all be good and it would have made her laugh when she noticed the secret message on the tag. "I just wish I knew who left it."

"They didn't sign it?" Charlie said sounding irritated as she leaned over the drawing. "Fucking moron. How the hell are you gonna know who likes you if they don't even bother to sign it?"

"Yea and pretty much everyone was in that art class with Lisa," Cas offered, getting excited now that he had another person who might be able to help him figure out the mystery behind his secret admirer. "I was hoping they would do something during the movie so I would know who they were, but I guess I was distracted. I probably missed it if they tried to get my attention."

"You were pretty spaced out, dude." Charlie said, shaking her head at the drawing one last time like she was disgusted with it now before looking back up at him mischievously. "What was making you so jumpy?"

"Nothing," Castiel said quickly, shaking his head and trying to figure out exactly where he had lost control of the conversation; trying not to think of Dean who he had upset by being callous and ungrateful, again.

Meg did this to him too, twisted around the things he was talking about so the conversation got back to what was going on with her and he couldn't remember what story he had been trying to tell her in the first place. Girls must have a special class in school to learn how to do this shit because all of the guys he knew just talked and didn't layer everything with subtext like females did. It was always so confusing and frustrating that sometimes he wished he really were gay so he didn't have to deal with it anymore.

"Bradbury," Bobby barked from the door way, crossing his arms disapprovingly over his chest. "Get to your own damn room. Winchester's tomfoolery has been rubbing off on you, girl."

"Don't blame Dean," Charlie sighed, climbing to her feet and heading towards the door. She spun quickly on her heel and pointed at the drawing that he had picked up to hold loosely in one of his hands, unconsciously tracing over the lines with the fingers of his other hand. "Someone likes you Cas and we are going to get to the bottom of it. You can be the Velma to my Daphne, we'll Mystery Machine this bitch."

Castiel laughed at that and waved the other girl away, shrugging at Bobby who just glowered at him before stalking off behind her down the hallway. He felt better after throwing up, lighter and like he could get some stuff accomplished. It was when he felt like this that he got homework done; that he had inspired moments where he would mow through his lists and crumple up a whole fistful before downing half a pot of coffee and motoring off to class once the sun came up. But he didn't have his homework and he may not even get his homework if the therapist decided he couldn't have it.

He had to remind himself to breathe after that thought flittered through his mind because it was just so frightening that he had to figure out some way to talk the doctor into giving him his book bag or his brain was just going to implode from worrying about school. But since he couldn't work on a paper, he decided to make a list of all of the things he wanted to accomplish while he had a professional psychologist at his disposal to help him.

Cas grabbed the puzzle book that Gabe had given him and marked the page he was working on before pulling out the pencil that he had used to hold his spot and flipping to the back cover where the smooth, blank page glared out at him blindingly white just begging to be filled with an orderly numbered list that he could cross off and feel accomplished about finishing. He took the spot Charlie had been in, kicking off his shoes and pressing his back against the wall with the pillow in his lap for a table. The drawing ended up propped against an empty, upside down water glass on the nightstand so that it wouldn't get wrinkled or torn from being on the bed.

He tried to think of a title for the list, but titles had never really been his strong point even when he was writing papers it was usually the last thing that he figured out so Cas just wrote _'To Do:'_ at the top of the page and left it at that.

_To Do:_

_1\. Get back on meds_ (He didn't like taking the meds, they made him feel numb even more so than he already was if that was possible and lose chunks of time, but they also helped him be able to eat and sleep and at least make his body function normally even if his mind couldn't.)

 _2\. Figure out who sent drawing_ (This one he figured he could cross of early, especially now that he had Charlie helping him.)

 _3\. Read a book for fun_ (Castiel couldn't remember the last book that he had read that wasn't for school and it nagged at him just a bit so this was his one kooky thing he was putting on his list, a reward to give him a break for working so hard to do the rest.)

 _4\. Catch up on homework/Study for the GRE_ (Those were ones he kinda had to do, there was no leaving those off of the list even if his stomach heaved when he thought of sorting through the research for his papers or taking one more practice exam.)

_5._

Castiel ran out of steam at number five, his enthusiasm waning now that he was thinking about all of the work he still had to finish for school and how had he even managed to forget about it at all?! This place was screwing with his head already, making him feel like he could forget about his responsibilities and commitments when he couldn't or his life would be even more fucked up than it already was. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep, no way in hell. So he wrapped his cardigan tight around his shoulders and ventured out into the darkened hallway.

The lights were only halfway on, mostly up by the nurse's station so he wasn't going to go that way, even if that's where the people who were here to help him lived. Bobby or Ellen could probably give him something to help him sleep, but he felt like bugs were crawling under his skin and sometimes the only thing that helped with that was walking or riding around Brooklyn with his pepper spray and his headphones in and he couldn't even do that because he was locked in this fucking building like a caged animal.

He turned right instead of left, away from the lights and the faint clicking of a keyboard that was drifting down the hallway along with muffled snores and people talking in their sleep. Castiel had no idea what he was doing only that he needed to be somewhere dark and quiet where the silence would keep him from hearing anything that wasn't his own heartbeat or breathing. When he was a kid he would hide under his bed or in the closet until his mom or dad or sometimes Michael found him, picked him up, and tucked him back into bed, but he hadn't done it for a long time and he didn't know why it appealed so much to him now.

Castiel hesitated for just a second before ducking into one of the showers at the darkened end of the hallway, keeping the lights off and his breathing quiet as the residual moisture on the tiled floor seeped through his socks and made him shiver. He sat down on the floor with his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, letting his head fall back until it clunked against the wall behind him and all he could feel was the dull throb where he skull had hit the tile until that faded too and he could feel nothing. It was kind of comforting to feel nothing, he had grown accustomed to numbness over the last year and after all of the emotions of the day he needed this safe place where he could just be in a vacuum for a while.

Only it wasn't a perfect vacumm, as much as he may want to just float around in space for a couple of minutes until he could feel his pulse pounding in his fingertips this shower wasn't space and his head wouldn't explode from lack of oxygen no matter how much he may want it to sometimes. And he could hear all of the whispered conversation going on in the room adjacent to the shower like he was living inside of a stereo speaker.

It was Dean and Charlie so he should get up and leave before he had to listen to the other man mooning over Lisa, because he didn't think he could handle listening to that without throwing up again. But something about his friend's voices was soothing in a way that was different from a vacuum, like he could listen to Dean talk to him in the dark forever and it would eventually make everything better. Charlie too, she had one of those steady audio book voices like his mom had, it reminded him of home.

"Charlie, I don't know why you're pissed." Dean's muffled voice echoed around him. "It was an honest mistake, okay? I fucking forgot."

"Bull fucking shit, Winchester." Charlie's voice replied. "You're self-sabotaging and I will not sit around while you spiral again. The pity party ends now, tomorrow you're going to do something decisive about this whole clusterfuck and that's the last I want to hear about it."

"Alright, mom." Dean replied sarcastically.

"I wish I was your mom Dean, I would just grab your ear and drag you over there and make you stop feeling like you don't deserve to be happy."

"Yea well if you were my mom, you'd be dead Charlie." Dean snapped, louder in the small dark space around Castiel, making his heart hurt at the pain he could almost picture on the other man's face when he said that.

"Don't pull the dead parent card on me, Dean. Get your shit together, grow a pair, and go after what you want like your life depends on it, alright? You never know what day will be your last and I need you to stop wasting your days blaming yourself for what happened."

"Can we not? Not tonight?" Dean asked sounding suddenly desperate. "I'll take care of it tomorrow, okay? I promise. I just...I don't want a nightmare tonight. Not tonight, Charlie."

"I'm sorry," Charlie said it so soft that he almost didn't hear it, but it echoed around him like the world's saddest lullaby and he had to go back to his room before he started crying just because of how sincere and regretful the other girl sounded.

Castiel fell out of the shower, fumbling for the door so that it didn't slam shut behind him and give him away as his eyes adjusted to the slightly brighter light of the hallway after having sat in complete darkness in the tiled room. He stripped off his damp socks and padded back to his room, peeking around the corner with as much stealth as he could manage before rushing the fifteen feet or so to his room on the other side of the hallway.

He pulled off his cardigan, wincing when the cool air in his room hit his shirt that was damp with sweat and moisture from the shower. Cas gathered up a change of clothes and went back into the small bathroom, pulling on the too short pajama pants and the faded shirt that was actually one of his that he had left at Gabriel's apartment once after spending the night locked out of his and Balthazar's apartment when his roommate and Meg ignored his calls and his insistent knocking because they were probably having loud sex somewhere inside.

By the time he climbed into the bed he was shivering and his teeth were chattering and it wasn't even that cold, but he felt like crying and he didn't know why; it made his chest feel like it was full of sharp, stabbing icicles. He wasn't entirely sure that falling asleep was something he could manage as long as he was this sad, but his body had a way of tricking him; of doing whatever it wanted whenever it wanted and Castiel really should have stopped assuming that he was in control of anything that happened in his life a long time ago.

His mom's ringtone was this song, _Goodbye Toulouse_ by this British proto-punk band from the 70s called The Stranglers. It had been Balthazar who suggested the song for him one night back when his roommate and Meg were still just friends with benefits and he could still eat and function and go out on Saturday nights to karaoke bars with his fake ID and his friends that he hadn't chased away yet. Amelia Shurley had thought that it was a vast improvement over the last song he had picked for her, _Art Teacher_ by Rufus Wainwright because Cas could admit that the song about a student being in love with her teach was just a little bit extra super creepy too.

That's what woke him up, that song playing. And he shot out of his bed to grab his phone that he always always put on the nightstand next to his bed. It was too early for his mom to be calling, the fucking sun wasn't even up yet and the only boxes he had managed to unpack the night before were the ones with toilet paper and his cellphone charger before they had collapsed into bed together after getting promised a homemade breakfast in the morning if he just phonied up a back rub. Which had turned into more than just a back rub because he still couldn't believe that this was his life and that it had finally started making sense.

The Brit had been surprisingly cool about the whole thing, even helping Cas when they decided to move in together and finding a new roommate that was a flight attendant or something and was never home to complain about his messes or his one night stands that Cas knew he was indulging in again now that he was single for the first time in almost four years. So it had all worked out, he had his _one_ and didn't lose his best friend in the process; stuff like this only happened in sappy romantic comedies or 'Friends-esque' sitcoms.

"Leave it," the mound of blankets next to him muttered, sounding sleepy and hoarse and soothing. "She'll call back, I told her we'd go to lunch with her."

"Where?" Castiel asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair and flopping back down onto the bed, moving until he was spooned up against the other body in the bed and could press a kiss into the tan, freckled skin that was peeking out of the Sonic Youth shirt of his that could probably not be classified as his anymore because Cas never got to wear it.

"Mmmmhmm," came the responding hum, sounding deeper and reverberating in his chest that he had pressed against warm body in front of him in a way that made him break out in goosebumps. "I'm gonna need some pizza, so..."

"You always want pizza," Castiel teased, wrapping an arm around the waist that felt firmer than he had been expecting, but made him muse that if their places were reversed he wouldn't mind having a solid warmth pressed up against his back. "Paulie Gee's?"

"Roberta's," he replied arching back into his arms with a stretch and a sigh. "Your mom is on a vegan diet remember?"

"Fucking ulcers ruin everything," Cas muttered, kissing on the neck that wasn't tangled up in long dark hair, but he could steel feel the short lighter, brown strands tickling his forehead.

He reached the stubbled jaw and could feel his that the chest he was running his hands over was flat and taunt instead of fleshy and soft with perfect breasts that he had jerked off to more times than he could ever possibly hope to count, before he realized that maybe this wasn't Meg. Castiel's brow furrowed in confusion and he pulled on the wide shoulders in front of him until the grumpily protesting form fell back onto his arm with a solid, pleasant heft.

"What?" Dean asked, looking up at him with a sleepy confused frown on his face. "Alright, fine. Paulie Gee's does vegan too, you caught me Cas. I just wanted to see if I could finally get you to buy me one of those t-shirts I've been hinting that I wanted forever."

"The one with the wizard," Castiel said nodding and wondering why he could have ever thought it was Meg in the bed with him.

"I knew you weren't blind," Dean said smirking at him and biting his lip like he did when he was feeling shy and playful. "Those glasses are a ruse, my good sir. A ruse!"

"You're a ruse," Cas replied, fiddling with the buttons on the red and gold plaid button down that Dean had for some reason slept in.

That couldn't be very comfortable, he should've borrowed that Sonic Youth shirt, it looked really good on him or...maybe he thought it would? But it wasn't borrowing anymore, their stuff could just be all jumbled up together and Cas didn't even care because half of the time they shared clothes ever since he had been able to start gaining weight again under Dean's watchful eye and his mom and Charlie plying food on him like he was starving to death.

"I had the weirdest dream," Castiel said rubbing at his temples in confusion because there were all of these fuzzy, half-formed memories floating around in his head of him and Dean and his mom and maybe he needed some coffee or more sleep because it was irritating how the images were right there out of his reach.

"About?" Dean asked settling his arms around Cas's neck and pulling him down on top of him with a little pleased hum as Cas settled into the other man and propped his chin up with his fist pressed into the larger man's chest so that he could think.

"I think I dreamed that my mom died," Castiel said with a shudder, seeing the green eyes that he fell into just about a million times a day widen in horror. "And um...that you were Meg, maybe? It's really blurry. Why are you sleeping in jeans?"

"Why are _you_ sleeping in jeans?" Dean countered, tucking his hands into Castiel's back pockets as both men looked down at the sweat drenched NYC Marathon shirt he was wearing along with jeans that were damp along the cuffs around his ankles.

"I know I changed clothes," Castiel said feeling his stomach turn over in confusion even as he felt hands creeping up under his shirt to smooth along his back and trace over the vertebrae of his spine. "I was wearing pajamas, I know that I was."

"When I fell asleep you were wearing nothing," Dean murmured leaning up to kiss him until Cas gave up on trying to figure out what was going on and just relented, moving his lips against the other man's mouth and marveling at how effortless it was to kiss another person.

It shouldn't be so surprising; he kissed Dean all the time. Didn't he?

Granted he hadn't kissed anyone in quite a while before he and the other man kissed for the first time and most of those had been drunken, self-hating fumblings that he did to try to take his mind off of Meg and Balthazar practically having sex in the middle of the dance floor of whatever club they were at. But those cupid's bow lips should be as familiar as playing the piano to him, so why was he having trouble catching his breath as he gasped against the other man's mouth when he felt teeth graze his bottom lip?

He felt Dean tugging on his shirt, pulling it off and over his head and Cas couldn't deal with that. He knew that he wasn't nearly as good looking as the other man, his muscles had withered when he hadn't been eating and it was only since getting back on meds and out of the hospital that his shoulders and biceps had started to fill out in a way that didn't look laughable when compared to Dean. But Dean gripped his waist hard when he tried to pull away, shushing his protests and flipping them over so that he was straddling Castiel's hips and smoothing in hands over the pale expanse of his chest.

"You gave me a back rub," Dean said smirking at him roughisly before kneading his thumbs into Cas's shoulders just above his collar bones. "Let me return the favor."

"Can't really rub my back if I'm laying on it," Castiel croaked out, feeling like he should cover himself up and like the other man had to be kidding him in some way because no one wanted him, no one ever even looked at him twice.

"I'm sure I'll figure something out," Dean replied, leaning down and putting his mouth right on that spot that he had almost touched him when they had been watching the movie in the psych ward—

When did that happened? That's not how that happened? Why was he on meds? Was he sick? Is that why he had been in a psych ward or a hospital? Why did it feel like there was a gaping hole in his chest when he thought about his mom? Why the fuck was he thinking about his mom when he had a fucking boner that was so hard it could cut glass?

"Dean?" Castiel gasped, instinctively arching his back up into the other man's lips and then groaning when he felt Dean's large, broad hand palming him through the straining denim of his jeans. "God, I don't understand..."

"It's fine Cas," Dean breathed against his neck, pressing his hips into Castiel's thigh and nipping at his skin when he felt the other man's arousal against his leg. "I've got you, you're fine. I see you, just open your eyes and realize that I see you."

He whimpered at that, feeling his cock twitch and throb in the other man's grasp as he came in sudden unexpected pulses in tight confines of his pants.

Castiel's eyes flew open, pressing his cheek into the pillow under his head and seeing stars for a second until his vision cleared and he was looking at the drawing of the plastic mug. With it's tea bag and scattered sugar and circular rings of spilled liquid that had been drawn with such magnificent precision that for just a second he could almost picture the person that had drawn it; the crinkles from smiling and concentration at the corners of their eyes and their full bottom lip captured in their top teeth. But there was no way that that's who it could be.

He drew in a shaky breath and looked down his body in the dim morning light of the hospital bedroom, thanking whatever saint would be least judgmental of him that Rufus was still snoring softly on the other side of the room. Cas couldn't remember the last time he had a wet dream that wasn't about Meg or some random that caught his eyes while he was riding his bike or walking around campus. Never had it been about anyone who he was friends with besides Balthazar's girlfriend, until now.

"Fuck," he cursed softly as the come started to cool inside his boxers, making the thin material stick to his legs as it seeped through to his pajama pants. He needed to get up and take a shower and try to get to a point where he didn't want to kill himself for having a sex dream about Dean, but right now it seemed impossible. "Goddamn fucking fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So confused, sexy dream? Yes? No? Meh? There will probably be more, so whatever direction you're leaning on that, just know that.
> 
> Also go eat pizza at Roberta's if you're ever in NYC (Brooklyn/Bushwick), I do totally have a suh-weet wizard shirt from there.


	9. Chapter 9

_Okay,_ Castiel thought, heading towards the cafeteria after lingering long enough that Ash came looking for him on Charlie's instructions. _It doesn't have to be awkward, not unless you make it awkward. You have dreams about Meg all of the time and remember that one time when you had a dream about your eighth grade biology teacher? He was 60 and moonlighted as a children's clown on the weekends. This is just as weird as that._

Or at least that was what he told himself in the shower and when he was changing clothes, trying to act like he didn't care about wearing the horrible, ill-fitting clothes that Gabriel had brought for him because he wasn't trying to impress anyone. He wasn't worried about impressing Dean because Dean was his friend and Cas was straight and he didn't fucking care what the other man thought he looked like, alright!?

But even though he kept glaring at the too-short cuffs on the sweatpants that he had settled on wearing and wishing he and his brother shared any fucking genes at all so that maybe they would be closer to the same height and even though he bit his nails down until the copper taste of his bleeding cuticles filled his mouth giving him something else to focus on besides how thirsty he was he still didn't want to go to the cafeteria to face Dean because he was pretty sure he would blush so hard his ears would burn off. Charlie still made Ash come and find him anyway; Cas just prayed that he would melt into a puddle and die before he said something stupid and embarrassing.

Fate must have been on his side though because when he got to the cafeteria the only people sitting at the table were Charlie and Becky. There was a tray at Dean's seat, holding a half eaten breakfast burrito and a cup of fruit; Castiel noticed that the other man's tea was already sitting in front of the empty seat to the left of his tray in the spot where he had sat next to Dean during lunch and dinner the day before. He smiled in spite of himself and immediately started freaking out because he shouldn't care that Dean had thought of him even though he wasn't there. He didn't care.

Cas nearly jumped out of his skin when a frazzled looking blonde woman with dark circles under her eyes clattered down a tray in front of him, smiling tightly at him before glancing around the rest of the table with a dismissive sneer and rushing off to talk to Jo who had just appeared in the doorway holding a cup of coffee. He sighed down at his own breakfast burrito, kicking himself for forgetting to fill out the form that Ellen had given him and trying to console himself by thinking that maybe at least he could stomach a hamburger at lunch today even though throwing up the grilled cheese had kind of put him off of it when he thought in terms of dinner.

But that was a long ways off, light years away and right now he had enough salsa packets to make him find anything appetizing. So he carefully put his coffee on Dean's tray, finally glancing up to make sure that he wasn't receiving any weird looks from the other people seated at the table with him and noticing for the first time that Charlie was just poking at her pancakes with a teary eyed expression on her face while Becky sat right beside her, usurping Ash's seat so that she could pat the other girl comfortingly on the back.

"Did I miss something?" He asked the two girls, looking at Ash who just shook his head and looked as confused as Castiel felt.

"Just some 'good news' from Dr. Mosely," Charlie muttered, rolling her eyes as she used air quotes to make sure her sarcasm came across.

"So we're sad why?" Castiel asked, because somebody had to and it's not like he was going to make it through the day without saying something dumb eventually so he might as well start early.

"Because I don't want to leave," the other girl snapped, slouching down in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest.

He watched as she sniffled miserably into the sleeves of her hoodie, letting her hair fall forward like a curtain to cover her face so that no one would see her crying even though they all could hear it and to Cas it sounded just like how Anna had hiccupped and whimpered her way through their mom's funeral while he sat dry-eyed and detached next to the rest of his family and tried to feel anything at all as he watched the rain fall on the pile of dirt from her grave that the cemetery had tried to tastefully disguise with a tarp. Why this twisted his heart even though his sister's crying hadn't probably proved just how fucked up he really was, but Cas couldn't help feeling bad for the other girl even though he really didn't understand why she was sad about leaving when that's all he wanted to do.

"And so help me boy, if you sneak off this floor one more time I will snatch that stupid grin right off of your face, Dean Winchester!"

Castiel resolutely told himself not to look towards the doorway, not even when he saw Dean trailing in behind an African American woman with a determined expression on her face out of the corner of his eye. But the other man clapped him on the shoulder before dropping heavily into the seat beside him, widening his green eyes and puffing his cheeks out with a sigh. Cas couldn't stop himself from leaning into the touch just a little bit before snapping back to sitting up straight, forcing his spine to pay attention to what his brain was telling it even though it felt like it was full of magnets that were pulling him towards Dean.

"You must be Castiel Shurley," the woman said, taking up a spot behind Charlie and smoothing a hand over the other girl's red head with a sad, resigned smile on her face before she turned the full force of her piercing brown eyes on him. "You're up next, sugar. Now that I'm done dealing with R.P. over here we can get properly acquainted. Come with me honey."

"Can you tell Garth that you started the Cuckoo's Nest jokes at least!?" Dean asked, throwing his hand up in dramatic frustration.

Castiel saw the exact moment that the other man noticed how sad Charlie looked because Dean's face fell and his own fingers twitched with the urge to smooth the worry lines off of his face, but he picked up what was left of his burrito and rushed after the older woman instead, depositing his tray that he had only eaten about a third of onto the cart by the door before he followed her down the hall and to one of the unmarked doors that were near the nurse's station.

Part of him was relieved to have an excuse to avoid being around the other man and he knew that was the cowardly part of him, but another part rationalized his running away from Dean because it's not like he could get out of here without talking to a therapist eventually. And when he followed the older woman into her comfortable, homey looking office the first thing he saw was his messenger bag sitting on top of her desk, it made his heart leap up into his throat and his palms start sweating as he fought to force down the last dry bite of breakfast burrito that he had shoved into his mouth. Finally, Cas could get back to his homework and try to forget about all of the shit that had gotten him here to begin with.

"Have a seat, Castiel." The woman said, gesturing to a couple of plush armchairs that were situated around the small space, interspersed with low tables that had boxes of Kleenex or dishes of candy on them before she wandered around behind her desk and struggled to pull a file folder out from under his messenger bag that he knew was fairly heavy. "I'm Dr. Missouri Mosely. Sorry I couldn't meet you yesterday, we don't get a lot of admissions on the weekends not unless it's an emergency which seeing from your file..."

Castiel picked a chair that was a faded hunter green and settled warily into it, waiting for the other woman to finish her thought after she was done flipping through his file. He looked around the room, smiling at the potted plants and small bonsai tree that were taking up the entirety of the room's one windowsill and noticing that the doctor had a lot of framed pictures and drawings on her walls, making her diplomas and credentials seem secondary to the happy expressions of the people in the pictures and the scrawled messages of thanks that were on most of the artwork.

"Huh, voluntary commitment. Don't see a lot of those these days," the doctor commented, settling down into her office chair and flipping though the few papers that were in his file. "Most people who are stable enough to realize that they need some psychiatric help end up in a private hospital, especially if they have a family or a support system in place who can see that they're struggling. Now, I can see that you put a Gabriel Shurley as your emergency contact?"

Castiel nodded, licking his lips nervously because he could sense it coming; that moment when all of the pieces fell into place and Dr. Mosely realized that Shurley wasn't the world's most common name. It happened a lot more at school with the other accounting and business majors who all knew who his brother the legend, Michael Shurley, was. His dad had a pen name so that happened less often, but there had been a couple of hardcore fans who knew that Carver Edlund was really Chuck Shurley when he was at home. And every single damn one of the stay-at-home moms turned college students loved Gabriel and his quirky sense of humor on his cooking show. He knew it was really just a matter of time before Anna was a famous ballerina or something and Cas finally set up his camp to live in the shadows of the rest of his family for good.

"And he is..." the doctor continued, gesturing with her hand that he could feel free to jump in at any time now.

"My brother," Castiel said plainly, holding his breath and waiting for the other shoe to drop just like it always did. Just like it had with Balthazar about four months after they started living together in the dorms at NYU and just like it did anytime he tried to talk to anyone about anything that didn't revolve around one of the other members of his family.

"Have you talked to him since you got here?" Dr. Mosely asked conversationally, frowning down at a portion of the paperwork that he had filled out in the emergency room.

"He brought me some clothes and stuff yesterday," he replied, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarser sounding than usual and fuck he really needed a glass of water or something because he couldn't stop staring at his backpack and thinking about how much he needed the research and spirals inside. "Gabe said he would come back today to bring me the books I asked for."

"Yea, I saw that you were a student." The woman said, resolutely ignoring his backpack and looking up at him as she settled her hands on top of her desk with a knowing smile on her face. "Why don't you tell me why you think you're here, Castiel."

"Well, um...I want to kill myself and I just...need to get my life together," He was struggling with this question again, just like he had in the emergency room because he felt like there were so many reasons why he should do it and not a lot that was keeping him from it except for him not wanting to put his family through losing another one of their makeshift clan; they had barely survived losing his mom.

"What does your family think about you being here?"

"The only one who knows is Gabriel," he replied quickly, feeling his stomach turn at the thought of Michael finding out that he was here. His oldest brother just had his life so together and figured out, that's why Castiel was trying to follow in his footsteps with school and his internships even though he was failing miserably at that too, just like he did everything else. "I'd really rather not tell anyone else that I'm here if I don't have to."

"And why is that?" the other woman asked, turning around in her seat to rummage around with something he couldn't see before spinning back and offering him a bottle of water, twisting the cap off of her own before taking a dainty sip.

"It's a bit...um...embarassing," he muttered, accepting the bottle gratefully and downing half of it in the first go. Castiel didn't know how she had known that it was what he needed, but feeling the cool plastic bottle against his overheated skin helped give him something to focus on besides how his stomach was churning uncomfortably.

"Y'know, that's what's wrong with this whole system," Dr. Mosely said shaking her head a little as she leaned back in her seat. "And it's a right damn shame. People are raised to think that having a mental illness is something to be embarrassed about, like it means that you're weaker or wrong in some way for having a chemical imbalance. That's what it is after all, it's a medical condition. Just like diabetes. If you had diabetes would you be embarrassed, Castiel? If you had to take insulin or check your blood sugar before eating dessert out at a restaurant with your friends would they make fun of you for being responsible and taking a proactive stance on your health?"

"No," he said softly, feeling guilty for being embarrassed about something that lots of people struggled with. Who was he to think he was better than anyone else out on the ward right now? Why did he think he think he was above getting depression or diabetes or diphtheria?

"And that's why you're here," The doctor said triumphantly, smiling at him and picking up a pen off of her desk. "Because you want to be proactive about your health. Some subconscious part of you isn't ready to give up yet and that's what made you come to my emergency room instead of jumping off of a building."

"It was the Brooklyn Bridge," he corrected softly, earning a strange smile from the other woman as she made a note in his file. "How did you know that?"

"Call it intuition," Dr. Mosely replied. "I'm pretty good at being able to read people, I come back every weekend expecting to hear that Dean's run off to play doctor somewhere again and that boy is still standing despite how much I want to strangle him sometimes. Imagine my surprise when I find out he's talked one of my lifers into trailing after him for once. I thought that Charlie had lost her damn mind, pardon my expression."

Castiel smirked at the other woman's plain spokenness, it was refreshing to not have a doctor talking down to him for once. His mother's doctors had made him and his siblings feel like misbehaving children when they asked extraneous questions about her health whenever they were taking turns picking her up from chemo and making sure she made it home. And going to his own doctor while she was sick and his troubles with insomnia had started had just made him hate pretty much everyone with an M.D. at the end of their name.

"It's good to make friends, Castiel." The doctor continued, her tone suddenly turning serious as she pursued her lips at him and narrowed her eyes. "But remember that you're here to work on yourself first and that everything else comes second."

He nodded quickly, swallowing hard when he thought of Dean and his dream; shifting uncomfortably in the armchair under the other woman's gaze. "I...uh...I get that, but you said that you knew I'm a student, right?"

"That's right."

"Well, its spring break this week, but I still have some papers and homework to finish. It's not stuff that I can put off just because I'm here—"

"The only homework that you will be doing is finding out more of your family history for me," The doctor said cutting him off and putting up a hand palm facing out to silence him. She gestured at his E.R. paperwork, "You're in your twenties and you still weren't able to list any medical history for either side of your family, that worries me on more than just a professional level, Castiel."

"I'm adopted," he explained, causing the other woman's eyes to widen in surprise for just a second and he couldn't help but smile at that because even with all of her intuition she still hadn't guessed that about him; though honestly not a lot of people could. "The only family history I know is for people who I don't share any genes with. My grandfather has high blood pressure, my aunt Carol has Crohn's, and my mom has—had gastric cancer. Besides that I'm pretty much in the dark about any medical conditions that I might end up with."

"That must be pretty scary," the doctor stated.

Castiel just shrugged in response because before his mom got sick he had never really thought about it, not even when he was watching The Notebook with Meg and listening to the other girl's stories about how her great aunt had dementia and how horrible it was to have to watch her forget everything about her life little by little. The conversation had started with him venting about how worried he was about his mom not eating and he still couldn't remember when it had gotten away from him like most of his conversations with his roommate's girlfriend did.

"Well speaking doctor to patient, its terrifying trust me," Dr. Mosely said simply, pulling out a yellow legal pad and writing out a short list before ripping the page off and sliding it across the desk towards him. "You may not want your family to know that you're here, but I need you to fill in a couple of gaps for me."

"Why?" Castiel asked frustrated because he didn't want to worry his dad with all of this when the older man was still acting weird over a year after his mom dying. "I'm not here because I have high blood pressure or anything, I'm depressed. Just prescribe me some Zoloft or something and I can do your therapy or whatever while also doing my school work."

"Studies show that some mental illnesses may run in families, but y'know what? I'll make you a deal, something to make it worth your while to actually get something out of this place instead of just faking getting better so that you don't miss finals or whatever else you are obsessing about."

"I'm not obsessed," Castiel snapped, louder than he had intended to and immediately afterwards he felt like he was going to throw up, slapping a hand over his mouth and glancing around for a trash can in case his body gave up the ghost and he lost his breakfast burrito. But he was able to swallow the bile back down, grimacing at the taste and angrily wiping at the tears that had sprung up his in eyes from the effort of trying to not vomit.

He took a steadily breath and looked apologetically at the other woman, "I'm sorry. But this is my future; I know that I can't leave until I'm better. I asked to be here so I know that I'm not exactly being my best right now, but I also can't just ignore my responsibilities. I'm trying to be happy and it's not going to happen if I don't finish school."

"I was going to say," the doctor began slowly, reaching for his bag and dragging it across the desk towards herself, pulling papers and pens with it that were trapped under the heavy grey fabric of the bag. "That you can pick one thing out of this bag to take with you to work on. Every time I feel like you're making genuine progress you can have something else. Whatever you want to do with what you pick is up to you, but if I find out that you're skipping groups or meals to work on homework it all gets locked back up in this office and you don't get to touch it until you leave. And no getting your brother to bring in more school stuff for you, what's in this bag is what you have to work with, nothing else."

"But that's not fair," He said, standing up quickly and watching as the other woman opened the zipper of his bag and held it open so that he could look into it and decide what he wanted to take with him for who knows how long until he was able to earn back another one of his belongings. "One thing is not going to be enough to help me with anything."

"Well, let's just say that this is your first epiphany," the therapist replied smugly, watching him closely as he ran his fingertips over the spines of the books and notebooks that were in the bag. "Life is not fair, for anyone. And you learn to make the best of what is given to you, to preserve despite the odds, and to recognize what is really important."

 _That's a shit lesson._ He thought, pausing over a GRE study guide that was taking up a significant portion of the bag, nestled right next to a copy of his dad's latest book that he had been meaning to read since it had come out almost two years ago. Carver Edlund had gone into hiding while Chuck Shurley was busy taking care of his dying wife and learning how to be alone again for the first time in almost thirty years. Anna had told Castiel the last time he talked to her that their dad had finally gone into his office again, but just to sleep on the couch in there because his bed was too big without their mom and not even looking at his typewriter as he shuffled around the small room.

"Don't cuss at me boy," Dr. Mosely warned, smirking at Castiel when he started protesting that he hadn't before stopping when he realized that he had been doing it in his head and grabbing the GRE study guide before snatching the yellow piece of paper from the other woman and sliding it into the book, sitting down with it weighing heavily in his lap. "Okay, so you have your homework. I expect for you to know that stuff for me the next time we talk one on one."

"Which will be?" Castiel said sullenly, picking at the torn corner of the study manual and second-guessing his decision to pick it in the first place.

"Did the nurse's give you a therapy schedule?"

He nodded, feeling self-hating tears prick at the back of his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to stem them; Castiel didn't know why he felt like crying all of a sudden.

"Well, what stood out to you? Is there anything that you know that you need to do? Alcoholic's Anonymous?"

"No," he said softly trying to remember the six or seven different groups that he had seen on the paper. "Um...anger management maybe?"

"Do you have a lot of anger, Castiel?" the other woman asked, receiving a noncommittal shrug in return. The boy didn't know what the hell he needed. "Well how about this, you come to one of the group therapies; there is one after breakfast and one after lunch and then spend the rest of the day today sitting in on any other one's that stick out for you. You and I can talk again in the morning and decide on which ones will work out best."

"So I'll have to talk to my dad today?" Castiel said resignedly, his voice going up at the end of the sentence like it was a question even though he had known that he would have to at some point in this whole fucking messed up situation. If not Gabriel was bound to give him away to the older man sooner or later.

"I think you know the answer to that," the doctor replied, standing up and stowing his bag back behind her desk before straightening the long, loose fitting sweater she was wearing. "Now come on sugar, go put your book away and come to group. If I know my Winchesters then I'm sure Dean saved you a seat."

He nodded again and let the other woman put an arm around his shoulders, already feeling tired and beaten down by the day despite it only having just started. Castiel took another look around the office as he moved towards the door, trying to draw strength from the potted plants (even though part of him was wondering if Balthazar or Meg were watering the ones in the apartment, they probably weren't) and the cheery pictures and the various drawings hanging up on the walls like trophies of a life lived successfully.

Missouri flipped off the light on their way out of the office and it was then that he noticed another drawing, one that was an intricate portrait of the doctor sitting at a desk with her fingers steepled under her chin and a wry smile on her face. It was done in sketched pencil and shaded with soft charcoal strokes that the framed the best features of the other woman in the most flattering way he had ever seen. The paper behind the glass was yellowed with age and the edges of the drawing looked weirdly blackened where they peaked around the wooden frame. But that wasn't the main thing that made it catch his attention; it was that it was done in the same style as his picture.

And it was signed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found out today that I have to actually go eat turkey somewhere tomorrow so pre-warning for those of you that read BtR its probs gonna be late. Boo. But here's an update for this, so yay! Silver linings!
> 
> I have to work tomorrow too, so feel free to comment all up on this bitch (or any of my other story bitches) and remember to be nice to people at coffee shops and restaurants and to other shoppers on Black Friday because the people who are working in the stores are just doing what they are told and the other shoppers are just trying to snag that sweet Blu-Ray player that they saw in the same ad as you did too, I promise they aren't out to ruin your holidays so please don't ruin theirs.


	10. Chapter 10

Group was a disaster, through honestly it didn't start off that way.

It started with Castiel absentmindedly trailing in behind Missouri and taking the only empty seat left in the common room, where all of the couches and chairs had been pushed into a lopsided circle, that happened to be right next to Dean who was sitting on the couch with Charlie in between him and Becky in one of those weird folding dorm chairs that were like really uncomfortable indoors hammocks. The other man was rubbing at his flannel covered arms with an agitated expression on his face and Charlie was red-eyed but no longer crying, so at least that was an improvement.

Seeing Dean caused all kinds of weird emotions in Castiel, but he settled on concern because Dean looked really upset and he hadn't seen the other man biting his lip that hard before or almost on the verge of crying, not even when he had snapped at him and caused him to leave the room. And really, concern was easier for him to deal with. It was a normal feeling to have about another man, one that didn't lead to crushes or wet dreams or more complicated ones that he didn't even fully understand. Cas didn't understand because the biggest emotion he felt when he saw Dean was really disappointment.

Disappointment laced with relief because the familiar looking drawing of Dr. Mosely in her office wasn't signed by Dean, in fact it was a stretch to call the loopy, scrawled initials at the bottom of the drawing a signature at all. He had just been so excited to have a clue about who his secret admirer was that he had started rushing towards the day area and Charlie so he could tell her about it before the sudden realization that it was a 'M' and not a 'D' doodled in front of the 'W' that stood for the artists' last name had completely knocked the wind out of his sails and brought him to a standstill in the middle of the hallway.

He should have been happy, why wasn't he happy? This meant that his weird dream about Dean was caused by that stupid grilled cheese sandwich or maybe that off brand tea or even possibly the overheard conversation between Charlie and the other man that had put the other patient at the forefront of his thoughts right before he fell asleep. It wasn't caused by the fact that every time Dean saw him, the other man smiled like he was genuinely happy to see him or by the way the other patient seemed to actually give a shit about him and he didn't even know him.

That wasn't enough to make a friendship into something more or for Castiel to completely change everything everyone knew about him, everything he knew about himself over a silly dream. He didn't even know the first thing about Dean, so why couldn't he feel anything but empty when he took the seat next to the other man and studied his rugged face with concern, a concern that was friendly and nothing more.

"Good morning, everybody." Missouri said brightly, taking a seat in a sturdy looking rocking chair that had been pulled over from its place near the window and placed at the top of the circle. "How was everyone's breakfast?"

Beside Castiel, Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes and muttering something that sounded exceptionally profane under his breath.

"Please, just drop it Dean." Charlie whispered on his other side and Castiel looked across the agitated man to see that the redhead had a stricken expression on her face. "It's not going to change anything."

"No, Charlene." Missouri corrected gently, smiling warmly at the other girl before nodding curtly in Dean's direction. "Group is a safe place for everyone, Dean is entitled to his own opinions and can voice them here without hurting anybody's feelings. Right everybody?"

There was a murmuring assent from around the group which included Ash as well as Crowley and Dick who were sitting next to each other and wearing matching looks of amusement over Dean's obvious distress. The other man had narrowed his eyes at Missouri, frowning disapprovingly at her as he continued to rub agitatedly at his arms, scratching over the fabric at his forearms and wrists like he had the chicken pox and couldn't help unconsciously doing it when he was upset.

"So Dean," the therapist said tightly, glancing behind them all to Garth who was lingering in the doorway and shaking her head slightly. "How is your morning going?"

"Well, Missouri. I'm sorry, doctor," Dean began sarcastically, letting out a rough sigh and unbuttoning the cuffs of his flannel over shirt, reaching up underneath the fabric to scratch at his skin as he spoke. "I said I think its complete bullshit that you guys are kicking Charlie out. Who are you to play god with people's lives like that? Don't you think she's been through enough?"

"Charlie's leaving?" The brunette woman in the sunglasses asked, her voice sounding different than Castiel had expected it too since so far all he had heard was her muttering to herself as she stared out the window of the common room. "I don't know why I didn't see that coming."

"I'm not leaving," Charlie interrupted, putting a comforting arm around Dean's shoulders. "Nothing is set is stone, it just...might happen."

"You'll leave eventually though," Crowley murmured, nudging Dick in the side and nodding towards where Dean was still scratching at his arms. "Everyone always leaves and only the very special ones get to come back, like you Dean."

"Or Alastair," Dick added, grinning widely when Dean's head shot in his direction. "I hear that the third time 'round is the charm, right Winchester?"

"That's enough," Missouri redirected when Dean started to get up from the couch, ignoring how Charlie was clutching at the back of his shirt. "We aren't talking about that, we're talking about how Dean's morning is going."

"She didn't eat breakfast," Becky said weakly, twisting her hands in her lap and resolutely not looking at Crowley who had started frowning at her. "Charlie, she didn't eat."

"Is that true, Charlie?" the therapist asked, leaning forward in her seat as her features melted into motherly concern. "Because that isn't how I expected you to take our conversation."

"Thanks, Becks." Charlie muttered under her breath, loud enough that Castiel could hear her, but he didn't think that the doctor could. "I'm on my period too, want to tell her that."

"Gross," Castiel said, earning a huffing laugh from Dean beside him who was still rubbing at his wrists, but had also started softly scratching at his denim covered thighs too, his short nails sounding raspy loud against the texture of the fabric.

Green eyes locked onto his own and he forced a smile onto his face, one that he didn't really feel because the part of his mind that he couldn't think about was still sad that Dean hadn't been the one to do that drawing, but another part of him knew that he needed to be strong for his new friend right now. That is the part that made him smile, he had never been the strong one for someone before, never been needed because there was always someone better around to help Meg or his family deal with their problems. But he could try to be strong for Dean, even if he couldn't even be strong for himself.

"I just got all worried about what I was going to wear to the interview," Charlie admitted, easing her grip on the back of Dean's shirt slightly as she talked. "I mean I have like no nice clothes, everything is donated stuff and I don't want them thinking I'm like...a bum or something."

"I'm confused," Crowley said, frowning as he crossed his legs and propped his chin up on his hand. "Isn't that what you are? It never helps anything to lie on your resume, dear. Just go in there in what you came in here in. What was it again, Dick?"

"I believe it was an assortment of dirty, tattered clothing and shoes made out of plastic bags, but correct me if I'm wrong Charlie."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Dean shouted suddenly, breaking the grip that Charlie had on his shirt and jumping to his feet so that he could start across the room towards the spiteful, grinning duo of Crowley and Dick who hadn't even flinched over Dean's reaction to their hurtful comments about the redhead. "I should kick your fucking asses you self-righteous pricks."

"I'm sure that's not the only thing you'd like to do to our asses," Dick sneered, high fiving Crowley when the other man put his hand up beside him

Castiel watched wide eyed as Garth rushed in and put himself between Dean and the other two men, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder before stopping himself when Dean flinched away from his outstretched hand.

"Don't fucking touch me," Dean hissed, glaring over the lanky orderly's shoulder one more time before he pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and sat back down heavily beside Charlie and buried his face in his hands. "I wasn't going to fucking do anything; they shouldn't talk about stuff they don't know anything about. Fucking assholes."

"I have some clothes you can borrow," Castiel offered softly, not even realizing he was speaking because he was too busy staring at Dean's arms, which were red and irritated looking from his scratching over the jagged, misshapen scars that were covering the inside part of his forearm starting at the thick blue veins on his wrists and running down until they disappeared under the bunched up sleeves of his over shirt at his elbows.

The other man stiffened beside him, but didn't look up and Cas was able to tear his eyes off of Dean's wrists long enough to meet Charlie's red-rimmed green eyes that were shining with worry for the man sitting between them.

"I mean, they aren't mine of course," he managed to continue, glancing back at Dean one last time before dropping his eyes to his hands that had fisted themselves into the fabric of Gabriel's sweatpants that he was wearing at some point during the entire unexpected confrontation. "But you're about the same size as my sister and she's pretty girly. I bet she would have like a dress or something you could borrow for your interview."

"That's really nice, Cas." Charlie said softly, reaching across Dean's back to touch him on the shoulder before dropping her hand down onto the other man's back and rubbing soothingly between his shoulder blades. "I'd really appreciate that. Isn't that nice, Dean?"

The other man nodded into his hands and glanced up at Castiel before sitting up straight and tugging his sleeves back down his arms, buttoning the flapping cuffs of his flannel shirt in a businesslike way before clearing his throat and looking resolutely at Missouri who was watching Dean with an amused smile on her face.

"What's so damn funny, Missouri?" Dean asked, his voice sounding rough with unspent emotion.

"Nothing," She said shaking her head and winking at Castiel before going back to asking everyone else about their morning and talking about the importance of healthy relationships for recovery.

Dean was up and out of the room as soon as group ended, walking away quickly down the hall and ignoring Charlie's calls for him to stop when the redhead chased him as far as the door to the common room. Castiel followed her, pulling his glasses off and cleaning them as he watched the other man's plaid back receding down the hallway in the narrow, fuzzy tunnel that was his near-sightedness made everything into when he didn't have his glasses on.

"God," Charlie sighed, kicking the doorframe with the toe of her worn sneaker. "I haven't seen him freak out like that in a while."

"So he's not like that normally, right?" Castiel asked, crossing his arms over his chest and willing away the image of the jagged scars on Dean's arms that he hadn't been able to shake for the entire rest of the group therapy. "Yesterday he seemed so mellow."

"I mean, Dean's always been pretty protective of his friends and stuff, but he's been able to keep his temper in check pretty well this time around or at least that's what I've been told." Charlie said with a shrug, glancing over at him and sniffling softly. "I'm sorry you had to see him like that."

"Everyone is here for a reason, right?" Cas replied brushing off the apology because if he had an ounce of courage at all he probably would've stood up to Dick and Crowley too, but it had taken everything he had not to start hyperventilating himself during group so he considered the fact that he was standing a victory in and of itself. "Hey, um...what's the next group or whatever? I'm supposed to sit in on some stuff today, figure out what I might need to work on."

"All the groups don't meet every day," Charlie said starting in a slow meandering walk down the hallway towards the rec room. "Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are Alcoholics Anonymous, Stress Management, and then LGBTQ is right before dinner."

"Oh, well..." Castiel replied, clearing his throat uncomfortably and deciding that at least he would have more time on those three days to work on school work because he was pretty sure he only needed one out of those groups anyway. "Stress management might work out for me, but what about anger management? I know I saw that on the schedule."

"That's on Tuesdays and Thursdays, along with abuse survivors and then either Andy or Lisa come by to do art or music therapy because those days are like really heavy for some people here. They end up being a way for people to try to decompress after those sessions."

"That makes sense," Castiel said, nodding his head and pausing outside the door to his room for a second, debating about whether or not he should grab his study guide and try to cram some test prep in before he got distracted by therapy he still wasn't sure he really needed. "Do you mind if I just follow you around to whatever you go to today? I mean, if it's not a big deal or anything. I don't want to crowd you or get on your nerves or –"

"It's fine, Cas." Charlie said, smiling warmly at him before gesturing to his room with a jut of her chin. "I'm just gonna go check on Dean, make sure he's okay. I'll meet you in the rec room in like, five minutes maybe?"

"Uh, yea." Castiel replied, running his hand over the back of his neck and sighing in resignation before taking a step towards the heavy GRE study guide that he had tossed down onto his bed before catching back up with Missouri at the nurse's station. He stopped though, when a sudden fear flashed through his mind, one that he had never had to be worried about before and it was enough to make him gasp in panic when it struck him. "Charlie? Dean's not...I mean he's not going to...do...anything, right?"

"I don't see how he could," Charlie muttered with a shrug, frowning even as she said it and taking a step closer down the hall towards hers and Dean's room. "I mean, he'd have to be pretty fucking determined and stupid, but Dean's always been those things in spades so um...I'll be right back."

"Should I be worried?" Cas called after her, turning to follow her fast-paced stride down the hallway as Charlie rushed past the rec room and showers, skidding around the corner and out of his sight. "Charlie!"

"You stupid, selfish fucking dickbag!" Charlie was saying when he caught up to her, cluchting at his heart like it was about to burst out of his chest because all he could think about were the pale, jagged scars lacing across the tanned skin of Dean's arms and it was freaking him the fuck out.

"Fuck stop, Charlie!" Dean yelled, ducking a pillow that that the other girl was trying to pummel him with. "I'm not doing anything, just coping! I'm using my fucking coping skills, Jesus!"

"You're not allowed to cope without telling me that you're coping!" Charlie exclaimed, jumping onto the narrow bed with the other man and holding the pillow in her hands over his head threateningly. "You scared the shit out of me and Cas was worried."

"He was worried about me?" Dean asked sounding slightly dumbstruck and lowering his arms long enough to give Charlie the perfect opportunity to hit him in the face one last time before climbing off of him and ambling over to Castiel with a relieved smile on her face.

"We both were, weren't we Cas?" Charlie said, nudging him in the side where he was standing awkwardly in their doorway, keeping an eye out down the hallway lest the two roommates' yelling brought Garth or Jo running to check on them. "Now come hang out with us and watch me kick Ash's butt at Bioshock. You can bring your coping skill with you, bang out that project that Lisa gave you no problem."

Dean sat up quickly, straightening his shirt and running a hand through his hair after shoving something under the pillow that he had been laying on. He glanced at Castiel and licked his lips nervously before shaking his head quickly.

"No, it's fine." Dean muttered, standing up and moving over to meet them in the doorway. "I didn't mean to make you guys worry or anything. I just needed a second to myself after letting Dick and Crowley get to me, I'll uh...watch you play video games or something."

"You can use my cards," Charlie offered, spinning off back down the hallway and leaving Dean and Castiel following more slowly behind her.

"I'm uh...happy you didn't do anything," Castiel murmured, wincing when it came out sounding more concerned than a friend should. He kept his eyes on the ground in front of him because if he looked at Dean he was pretty sure he would start blushing, that embarrassment over his dream had finally shown up, possibly triggered by knowing now exactly how the other man would look sprawled out in a bed.

"Thanks," Dean said softly, catching the swinging door that led into the rec room and holding in open for Cas, gesturing that he should go ahead of him and into the room. "I'm sorry that you had to see me like that, I um...I'm just not very good with um...surprises. So, yea."

"It probably doesn't help that Dick and Crowley are assholes," Ash drawled where he was sitting cross legged on the floor, already leaning into the controller in his hands like it would help his character move around the game faster.

Charlie nodded earnestly, taking the seat beside Ash on the floor and snatching the other controller out of his lap. "Total jerks."

Dean plopped down on the loveseat that was situated behind the coffee table that Charlie and Ash were leaning on with a heavy sigh and smiled winningly at Cas when he hesitated before perching himself on the edge of the coffee table instead of sitting next to the other man. It was just too close and there would probably be touching and he didn't think that he could handle that right now, especially after already worrying unnecessarily like a silly, stupid girl getting bent out of shape seeing her boyfriend tackled in football practice or something. Anna could talk for hours about boys she went to school with twisting their ankles from plie-ing the wrong way or whatever, boys that she had crushes on.

He cleared his throat and leaned down next to Charlie, whispering which was also stupid because if Dean wasn't his secret admirer, then what did he have to be embarrassed about?

"I think I might be able to figure out who sent me that drawing."

"Oh, really?" Charlie said, smiling smugly and punching hard at the buttons on the controller she was holding and biting her lip in concentration. "I guess somebody finally grew a pair and told you then, well invite me—"

"Told him what?" Dean asked suddenly, leaning forward and tugging on the end of Charlie's hair, shooting a nervously look at Castiel and he couldn't help himself from looking down at Dean's fabric covered forearms again before dropping his eyes guiltily to his lap.

"You mean? Oh. OH! Right I guess you don't know, Dean." Charlie covered quickly, leaning forward out of the larger man's reach and pulling her hair over her shoulder. "Well, it's nothing never mind."

"Secrets don't make friends," Dean cajoled, winking at Cas when he happened to look up at the green-eyed man before he plopped back down on the couch with a pouting frown. "You gonna let me in on your secret, Cas?"

"I've got to go," Castiel muttered, jumping to his feet and heading out of the room because the teasing tone in the other man's voice reminded him too much of how dream Dean had talked to him and it was scary how...comfortable it felt, familiar. "Y'know, homework stuff. My book is in my room, I'm going to go get it."

Rufus wasn't in bed when he got back, but he could hear the sink in the ensuite bathroom running so he knew that the other man hadn't actually left the room. Cas was so embarrassed that he didn't know if he wanted to cry or curse or just drown himself in the closest standing body of water, even if that meant the toilet because Dean did not need to know that he was getting all hormonal over a stupid drawing even if it was the first thing he had gotten from someone that didn't come with strings or ulterior motives attached to it.

But he wasn't at home and this wasn't his room where he could shut himself away and play loud music so no one would hear him crying or talking to himself like freaking Gollum huddled over his homework like it was fucking Sauron's precious damn ring. He paced the tiled floor of his small, shared room until Rufus opening the bathroom door made him whirl around, snatching the drawing off of his bedside table and hiding it behind his back because he thought that it was Dean coming to check on him again, to make sure he wasn't puking his guts out like the mess he was, like he had the night before.

Thankfully it wasn't, but Rufus still gave him a weird look as he shuffled back to his bed and wrapped himself back up in his blankets mumbling something about "crazy ass white boys" that Castiel whole-heartedly agreed with. Once he was sure the other man was fully ensconced in his hospital issued bed linens, Castiel sat down on the edge of his bed, gnawing on a piece of loose skin that had started to peel off of his lips that were chapped from constantly biting and licking them anytime he was nervous, which was most of the time.

He carefully held his drawing in his lap, cradling it like it was something precious. Cas laughed ruefully when he thought about how he was probably just trading in one obsession for another, homework for the mystery of the secret artist, but then he glanced over at his study manual and decided that he could probably have both if he really put his mind to it. He folded his picture in half once, deciding that this would be the last time he did it before he carefully slid it to hold the spot that he had been keeping with an old receipt from the on-campus coffee shop and took one last deep breath before gathering his thoughts so he could head back towards the rec room resolved that he was going to stop letting things be weird between him and Dean.

It was all in his head anyway, no one talked to him like Dean talked to him, joking and easy and coy. No one...except Meg.

"You coming, Cas?" Charlie asked, rapping on his open door with her knuckles as she and Ash walked past, headed back towards the common room and presumably, stress management.

Castiel nodded and stood up, wrapping his arms around his book and carrying it with him like a security blanket even though he knew that it was going to look weird and Missouri was probably going to think that he was doing exactly what she had told him not to do already, picking homework over treatment. But he needed the sense of peace that the drawing gave him, the knowledge that someone had taken the time to make something that he would like so that he could face everyone again and his stupid, too short sweatpants didn't have pockets so its not like he could carry it there, this was really his only option.

He followed her to the closest couch, taking the seat on one of the outer edges so that he would only have to sit next to Charlie and feeling more than a little relieved when a unfamiliar Asian girl took the rocking chair that Missouri had been sitting in during group therapy with a clipboard clutched tightly in her hand as she smiled around the groups. Her eyes stopped on Castiel for a second before she smiled widely at Charlie and returned the little wave that the redhead gave her.

"Man, the things I would do..." Charlie muttered, nudging Castiel in the side and nodding at the Asian girl meaningfully.

Cas gave the other girl a confused look and shrugged his shoulders like he knew what she was talking about, but he really didn't. He hadn't seen the other girl around the ward during the day before, but that didn't mean she wasn't a patient or anything; is not like being in a hospital was exactly a social event so it was fully possible that she had kept herself in her room up until now and that's why it was the first time he was seeing her.

"Who is she?" He asked, running his thumb over the corner of his book so that the pages thrummed under his fingertips.

"Freaking interns man," Charlie replied under her breath, glancing over and noticing the dumbfounded look he was giving her. "Missouri really just does the group sessions and one on one stuff, the other therapies are divvied up to a couple of interns that she hand picks to lead each group. They're smart as hell, but man its torture when she picks a pretty one."

"Dude, Maggie is hot," Ash agreed, leaning over to whisper it over Charlie's head so that the intern wouldn't overhear them as she chewed on the end of the pen that she had pulled out from behind her ear.

"I guess," he said, glancing over at the therapist again before looking towards the hallway where Dean was leaning up against the nurse's station talking to Jo with an easy-going smile on his face. The other man was carrying something, a journal or a notepad that he picked up and used to salute the nurse with before ambling back off toward the other hallway.

"Hello, everyone." The Asian girl piped, pulling her legs up into the rocking chair with her so that she was sitting cross legged in the seat. "Welcome to stress management 101, where you will learn the art of zen and motorcycle maintenance."

Charlie laughed beside him, probably a little too hard for it to be entirely genuine, but it had finally sunk in for Cas exactly why she had fluffed up her hair when she saw the intern coming and why her eyes that had been teary and red-rimmed less than an hour ago were now shining happily as she appraised the other girl's pigtails and Radiohead t-shirt with an approving smile. That's why it wasn't a big deal for her to be roommates with Dean, his charm had no effect on her because he _really_ wasn't her type.

"I see that we have a new face in the crowd, so I'll just start off this group by everyone going around and saying your name and go-to coping skill," the girl said, looking around the circle excitedly. "A coping skills is something you use to well, help you cope. Pretty obvious right, I like for everyone to name something healthy, a hobby or relaxation techniques that are not illegal, harmful to yourself or others, and let's keep it PG today, okay Ash?"

The other man scoffed, putting a hand to his chest like he was offended for a second before shrugging and nodding because he really did deserve that comment.

"I'll start us off," she continued. "My name is Maggie Zeddmore, LPC intern specializing in family therapy, nuclear, non and all the kinds in between. My coping skill is karate, black belt right here ladies and gents. Who's next?"

"Lilith," the blonde said, smirking eerily around the circle before she settled her gaze back on Maggie and recrossed her legs. "I like playing with animals."

"Oh, that's sweet," Maggie cooed, making a note on her clipboard. "Pet therapy is an interesting and experimental field; I could see if Dr. Mosely might let you guys have a day where we bring service animals in or something. Great idea, Lilith! Next?"

"Martin," The thin man who had told Castiel to be quiet when had first gotten on the ward the day before mumbled, arms crossed over his chest and snapping his head up from where he looked like he had been nodding off to sleep. "I like to meditate, I like the quiet."

"Good, good," Maggie encouraged, continuing around the group and adding in little pep talks and trivia for the people who appeared to be struggling.

Castiel listened to everyone else's coping skills and tried to figure out what his might be. He didn't really do much these days, besides homework and that couldn't really be considered the most stress-free activity that he engaged in since most of the time when he got caught up in a project he forgot to eat or sleep or shower. There were whole weekends when he didn't even leave his room until the sounds of Meg's girlish giggles brought him out of his cave to choke down some ginger ale or some tea and a couple of crackers.

"I'm Ash," the mulletted boy began, smirking mischievously at Castiel and Charlie. "I like to go hunting and –"

"Ash," Maggie interrupted, putting up her clipboard and covering her face with it, muffling her voice slightly as she continued. "I swear on all that's holy if you say something vulgar right now I will make sure you never play a video game ever again."

"Well shit," Ash cursed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Half of everything I do you think is vulgar, Mags. What the hell am I supposed to say?"

"Nothing that involves a slang word for vaginas or sex. Positive, a positive coping skills is all I'm asking for," the intern replied, peeking over her clipboard at the group earning a wistful sounding sigh from Charlie.

"Computers, I guess." Ash muttered. "I like to take them apart and put them back together again."

"Thank you! How about you Charlie, what's your coping skill?"

"I like to read," Charlie breathed, twisting her finger around a strand of her hair. "My favorite book is _The Hobbit_."

"Oh, I love that one too!" Maggie exclaimed, bouncing in her seat a little bit. "Small world. Alright, new guy you understand how the game is played now?"

Castiel nodded, catching his thumb on the page in his book that had the drawing tucked into it; opening it far enough so that he could catch a glimpse of the wispy steam that was streaming out of the two-dimensional mug. "I'm Castiel and I um...I like to read too. I study a lot, so I guess homework is sort of my coping skill."

"Hmmm," Maggie said, frowning and tilting her head at him. "I don't know, we might have to see if we can do better than that. How about you think on it? Dig deep and try to find something that really works for you when you're feeling down or stressed, works every time no matter where you are."

"Studying works," Castiel objected softly, nudging his glasses back up his nose and glancing up at the intern with his stomach twisting fitfully because he knew that nothing made him feel better, nothing much made him feel at all.

"You did those crosswords yesterday," Charlie offered helpfully.

"Nah," Maggie said knowingly. "Castiel will come up with something good. I think he has secret hidden depths that will shock and astound us all, don't ya?"

He shook his head, swallowing nervously because that was the second person to say he had secrets and yea he did, but that's why they were secrets. No one wanted to listen to his problems and he wasn't really too keen to share them with anyone, god all of this therapy shit was complete bullshit. Now he remembered why he hadn't wanted to see someone else after he and his family finished grief counseling, therapists were always telling him he was wrong or pushing for more than he was willing to give and he had too many other people telling him he wasn't good enough already, a professional saying the same thing wasn't going to make anything better.

"You'll figure it out," Maggie consoled. "That's what we're all here for, right? Life is all about figuring things out and rushing or forcing the lesson before you're ready to learn it just leads to stress. So that's what we're going to talk about today, guys. Patience and how a lack of it relates to stress."

Castiel zoned out again, repeating to himself that studying worked for him and that didn't make him a freak or anything, just driven. Driven like Michael and Gabriel who had it all figured out and that worked for him. It was working for him. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, if you've been following the weather, Texas is in the middle of snowpocalypse. Literally we are all pretty convinced the world is ending and my power has been flickering like crazy. BtR will be up as soon as possible, hopefully tomorrow if the elements don't conspire against me. Until then, kisses and love and be careful if you have to drive in shitty conditions; seriously don't make me worry about you guys, I'm too young for wrinkles yet.


	11. Chapter 11

The burger wasn't bad, it definitely could use some of that dill and mango chutney of Gabe's, but it didn't taste like over boiled high school cafeteria food either. Charlie wolfed down her food, some sort of Asian-inspired stir fry dish and then started eyeing his tater tots, so Cas gave them to her because he knew that he had eaten more of his own breakfast than the other girl had and he didn't think that his stomach could handle more than the burger and two mugs full of tea that he drank anyway.

"Sylvia Plath, author, gassed herself in her stove," Charlie forced out around a mouth full of tater tots, muttering an apology for spewing bits of half-chewed diced potato all over the table in front of herself.

"Hunter S. Thompson, political journalist, awesome-dude and my personal idol," Ash drawled, punting one of the peas on his tray lazily towards Pam's cleavage as the older woman leaned over her tray, rocking slightly and muttering to herself. "Awww, close. Gun to the noggin, pow."

"Wendy O. Williams, singer, also a gunshot," Castiel added, glancing over at Dean who had his fingers steepled under his chin and was frowning in concentration. "Give up, yet?"

"Uh, never." Dean replied, smirking at him before running a hand over the back of his neck and blowing out a heavy breath. "Mark Rothko, painter; not really my taste, but I've always liked impressionism."

"Okay, teacher's pet," Ash said challengingly. "But how did he do it?"

The other man glanced at Castiel one more time, fingering the cuffs of his shirt and awkwardly clearing his throat. "He took all of the anti-depressants in his house and then slit his wrists over the kitchen sink."

"Guess they didn't really help him much," Ash commented briskly, breaking the awkward silence that settled over the table as soon as Dean finished speaking. "Speaking of meds, where the hell is Garth?"

On cue, the lanky orderly came rushing into the room, balancing a tray full of little paper cups that rattled together as he sped around the room doling them out to most of the people still sitting around the clustered tables.

"Sorry, guys. My day's getting away from me a bit, you know how it is." Garth apologized, flicking his eyes over the cups that had the last names of the patients they were meant for written around the inside edge. "Okay, Lindberg. Winchester. And...Shurley. There you go guys, swallow and show me. Anybody seen Becky around?"

"She ate quick and then bolted," Charlie replied disapprovingly. "You'll probably find her down by the showers, especially if Jo is at the nurse's station."

"Shit," the other man cursed under his breath, glancing around the room and shaking his head. "Of course fucking Crowley's missing too. Listen guys, do me a solid and don't cheek your meds. I'm looking at you Ash, I've got to sort this crap out."

Castiel nodded, staring down at the little cup in his hand that was holding two small innocuous looking white and green capsuled pills. It wasn't Zoloft or at least he was pretty sure that it wasn't because the pills he used to take before he ran out and refilling the prescription just seemed too entirely pointless compared to everything else he had to do had been white pressed powder, sort of looking like the little blob guy that the anti-depressant company used in their commercials.

"Sucker," Ash crowed, dumping the four or so pills from his own cup into his hand so he could poke through them, taking two with a sip of water and pocketing the rest with a nonchalance that scared Castiel just a little bit. "That's what they get for letting students run the joint, Becky get's boned and I get stoned."

"What is this?" Castiel asked, tilting his cup forward so that Charlie could peek into it only for the other girl to respond with a shrug.

"Let me see, Cas," Dean said, reaching out and grabbing his hand so that he could move it closer to him.

Castiel flinched from the unexpected touch, since meeting up with the other man after stress management he had been avoiding getting too close to Dean because then his body wouldn't get a chance to get ahead of his thoughts and he didn't not need his messed up physical reactions to everything telling him that his friendship with the other man was something more than just that. Because it wasn't, it fucking wasn't.

But god, Dean holding his hand and peering into his cup of pills while biting contemplatively on his bottom lip did all kinds of traitorous, horrible things to him south of the border. He couldn't tear his eyes off of Dean's mouth, even though it felt like all of the nerve endings in his wrist were on fire, right where Dean's fingers were wrapped around loosely with just a gentle pressure to keep him from moving away on the bump of his ulna that was jutting out sharply from the rest of his too thin arm. If he wanted to, he could pull away. Dean wasn't holding him tight or anything, but his mind felt fuzzy and warm instead of like the panicky, jumbled mess that it usually was.

He wanted to hold onto it, wrap the feeling around himself until the rest of the world stopped being so confusing and scary and indifferent towards him, but he couldn't. Dean's mouth was moving again, so the other man was talking and Castiel forced himself to focus on the words that had faded out into the background music that was usually running through his head when he started feeling slightly less horrible.

"That looks like Prozac," Dean mumbled, letting go of Castiel's hand which sank heavily a couple of inches now that it wasn't being supported by the other man holding on to him.

The green eyed man tipped his own cup of pills out onto his tray, poking around until he found one that looked just like the two that were in Cas's cup. Dean held it up triumphantly, smiling dizzyingly and dazzlingly at Castiel who shifted self-consciously and slumped down in his seat, tugging his shirt down as far as he could over the raging erection he had suddenly realized he was sporting under the table and hoping it would be enough to hide it until it went away, even if he had to sit in the cafeteria for the rest of the day.

"Yep, Prozac. See? I take that one too." Dean said, sweeping up the other four pills off of his tray and tossing them back with a grimace and a large gulp of water.

"You take a lot of pills," Cas commented, trying to think of anything other than how long and perfect Dean's neck was, how the fluorescent lights made his dark blond stubble stand out on his cheeks in a way that definitely shouldn't appeal to him as much as it did.

Dean shrugged, his smile faltering slightly before he jutted his chin back at Ash. "Better that I take them unlike, Dr. Gonzo over there; he is going to be off the walls for the rest of the night. Took me a long time to learn to trust Missouri enough before I would just swallow whatever she thought was best for me. You don't have to take it, that's your right as a patient, but she doesn't usually prescribe stuff without a reason."

"Is that your subtle way of asking why I'm here?" Castiel asked, pushing an agitated hand through his hair and picking up his tea so that he could take his own pills.

"Don't ask, don't tell," Ash sing-songed from the end of the table, widening his eyes at the fork he was holding in amazement before bringing it closer to his face to inspect it more thoroughly. "You find out all kinds of scary shit that way."

Charlie shook her head at the other man before looking back at Dean and reaching out to pat his hand. "You don't ask why someone is here, Cas. Not unless you're willing to tell them your story in return."

"Oh well..." Castiel began, trailing off awkwardly. He wasn't ready to tell any of these people his story, hell he didn't even really know what his story was past his overwhelming urge to jump off a bridge yesterday morning. Once he figured it out, maybe he would decide to tell them all.

"Don't take those with something hot," Dean interjected, catching Castiel's hand again before he could take a heaping gulp of his tea to wash down the two pills that he had put between his teeth. "The casing will melt and the inside of those things tastes like complete shit, plus you'll feel like puking your guts out and I'd rather not have to see that again. Here take it with this."

Dean offered Castiel the glass of water that he had taken his own pills with, holding it towards him with a shy smile on his face while the beaded condensation on the outside of the glass slid down and over his fingers. Castiel hesitated, distracted by the phantom, fake memory of how dream Dean's fingers had felt carding through his hair, different than how Meg's felt when she was trying to fix it for him and mumbling that it never fucking did anything she wanted it to.

"Shit, Cas." Dean scoffed, sounding slightly offended. "I don't have fucking cooties or anything, I'm just trying to help."

"It's not that," Castiel muttered, shaking off the feeling that wasn't real and really wasn't doing anything to help his half-wilted erection go away. He reached for the offered glass and quickly downed his pills, nodding at Dean before giving the water back to the other man. "I just got lost in my head a bit, thanks."

"No problem," Dean smiled, wrapping both of his hands around the glass before squinting at Ash and pointing a finger at the other man who was just sitting there with the fork held as close to his eye as he could manage without hurting himself. "Can you take that away from him, Charlie? Dude's freaking me out, guess we're postponing the game until he comes down or whatever."

"Probably for the best," Charlie replied, wrenching the fork out of Ash's grasp and replacing it with a sugar packet that held the other patient's attention just as much as the utensil had. She sighed and picked up her tray, adding the rest of Ash's silverware to her own before standing up. "I've got to go catch Missouri before her next group, talk to her about LGBTQ. See you both in a bit?"

"Yea, yea, go take over the world or whatever, brain." Dean said, waving the other girl away before taking a tentative sip out of the glass of water in his hands and chuckling to himself for a second. "Well if you had mono I guess I'm fucked now, Cas."

"I don't have mono," Castiel started, objecting to the accusation before he realized that Dean was joking with him. "I'd have to get around in order to get the kissing disease, I think you're safe, Dean. I'll be the last person you get it from."

"Well that's good to know," the other patient murmured, glancing up at him under his eyelashes and shifting closer in his seat, dropping his voice lower so that the only person who could hear him was Cas. "Hey, um...after dinner can you meet me somewhere?"

"I guess," Castiel said, clearing his throat and shifting away while trying to make it look like he was just crossing his leg over his knee. "What for?"

He didn't want Dean to get offended, think he didn't want to be near him or anything, but that was the entire problem. He did want to be near him or at least his body did, close enough to touch the little crinkles that formed around his eyes when he laughed or to count the freckles that bridged across his nose. Castiel's mind was telling him to get away, avoid letting himself get into a situation that might make him want to do something stupid that might get him punched in the face.

Michael had gotten beaten up once when Castiel was still in junior high, his mom had freaked out over his brother's busted lip and bruised ribs, but it had just made his brother more determined than ever to stick up for the underdogs. Starting the gay/straight alliance at school, pushing a petition through the school board that would make the school's bullying policy into one of zero tolerance, and doing all of it before he finished his sophomore year, maintaining a 4.0 GPA the entire time without breaking a sweat. They were big shoes to fill, his eldest brother's, and Cas knew he wasn't nearly as well-adjusted, so he leaned away from Dean, just a little even though every muscle in his body was telling him to lean in and see if this Dean's teeth caught his bottom lip just right, like they had in his dream.

"I have something I want to give you," Dean admitted, shrugging nonchalantly. "It's not anything important so if you'd rather not, I understand."

"No, I'll meet you," Castiel said quickly, cursing himself for sounding too eager and willing to spend time one on one with the other man because if he wasn't careful it would only get him in trouble. "Where?"

"That bench across the hall, about 7?"

"It's not like I have anything else to do or anything, so sure." Cas responded, trying to mimic Dean's easy shrug and being fairly certain that he hadn't pulled it off as smoothly.

"Shurley, your brother's girlfriend is here with your junk!" Jo yelled from the door to the cafeteria, earning a disapproving look from Ellen who was walking behind her. "Come on, so I can log your stuff in before I go."

"Go on," Dean told him softly, waving Castiel away with a bright smile on his face as he gestured to their two trays. "I'll take care of your tray; I'm probably going to end up having to do Ash's too anyway so it's not a big deal."

"You sure?" Castiel asked, hesitating for a second before he stood so that he could tug his shirt down again even though it had helped ease his erection to not have Dean touching him.

Dean nodded at him again, mumbling something unintelligible around the massive sandwich he was eating with chips.

"See you later," he added, heading towards the door and around the corner towards the nurse's station.

Kali was there, huddled close to the ward's locked doors with her phone pressed to her ear while Missouri stood off to the side with Becky, rubbing the other girl's shoulder and talking lowly to her. When Kali saw him coming she smiled, that ultra-bright smile of hers that his brother had first swooned over when Gabe met her in culinary school, and quickly ended her call. Castiel liked her hair better though, which was dark and flowy like Meg's and she usually wore it down, but today it was up in a messy bun that left wispy tendrils fluttering around her burnished brown neck.

He had always thought she was so pretty and he envied her no-shit attitude that was similar to Balthazar's girlfriend's; she definitely gave Gabriel a run for his money and his brother had kept her close even after their breakup because she was one of the few people who managed to talk him down from the mischievous heights he could reach if left to his own devices. Needless to say, she had not been around during the _Today Show_ debacle which worked because without it, Gabe would probably have remained a nameless sous chef to the pompous Frenchman that he had filled in for.

"Cassie-bear," Kali cooed, bundling him into a quick hug as she dropped a kiss on his cheek. "Gabs sent me with your stuff, said you were ready to bust a stitch when you found out you were going to have to wear his clothes. I thought I would rescue you from the fashion disaster that is your brother."

"It's not that bad," he said, shrugging and smiling because he was going to feel rude if he didn't even try to feign happiness at seeing her. "I just look like I'm prepared for a flood."

"It's a good look, I bet you're the belle of the ball. Driving all of the ladies wild," the other woman kidded, squeezing his arm before she knelt and hefted up a duffle bag onto the counter of the nurse's station. "I can't stay long, Gabe has some charity dinner that he is catering with Michael tonight and two of our prep cooks called in sick so I'm off to chop onions and potatoes like a slave."

"I didn't know they were doing something together," Castiel said softly, unzipping the bag and poking through it disinterestedly all in an effort to hide how hurt he was that his brothers had obviously planned a big ol' party and forgotten to invite him.

"I gave Balthazar the invitation three weeks ago," Kali replied frowning deeply, she did not like his roommate at all. "I freaking hand-delivered it because Gabe had convinced himself that it would get lost in the mail otherwise. He said he would give it to you."

"He probably just forgot and set it down somewhere," Castiel muttered, trying to half-heartedly defend his roommate's actions even though he knew with Kali, it was less than pointless. She had made up her mind about the other man the first time Cas had shown up at her and Gabe's apartment locked out of their dorm. "It's fine, I couldn't even go anyway if I had it. Don't really think they're going to be giving me a day pass or anything my second day here."

"Him and that little fucking tart treat you like a second class citizen," Kali spat, if she didn't like Balthazar then it was safe to say that Kali downright hated Meg. "I hope this place helps you realize that you deserve better than that."

"Don't bring Meg into this," he warned. Balthazar could be a dick, yes, but Meg had a lot going on and reasons for being oblivious to the stuff going on around her. Kali said she was self-absorbed and stuck up, he thought she was wounded and fragile and misunderstood; just like he was.

"Do you know what she had the nerve to ask me when Gabe and I went to get your stuff, Cas?" Kali asked suddenly, her eyes flashing dangerously. "She wanted me to see if you could pick up her dry-cleaning for her on your way home from school. On your bike, Cas."

"Did you tell her I was in here?" Castiel choked, feeling his heart pretty much stop because there was no way that Meg would ever want him if she knew that he had tried to kill himself; she didn't even know that he had been on anti-depressants, she didn't even know that he was depressed at all. "Christ, did you tell Balthazar?"

"No, we didn't tell them." Kali said reluctantly, crossing her arms over her red Johnny Cupcakes shirt and taking a deep nostril-flaring breath in before shutting her eyes and letting it out slowly. "Gabe told me you didn't want anyone to know. Cas, its nothing to be ashamed about. Mari was in and out of the hospital when we were kids and now she's on the right meds, her anxiety is under control. This is a good thing, I promise."

"I've already had the speech, Kal." He mumbled, glancing over to Missouri who was standing across from them with her pen scratching on a clipboard. Bobby had shown up too and was clicking through the computer in front of him with a confused frown on his face, muttering under his breath about malware and firewalls that Garth and Jo kept disabling. "If it helps, it helps. I guess we're just going to have to wait and see."

"Have you made any friends?" the other woman asked, eyeing Ruby who was stomping furiously down the hall to stand impatiently in front of Missouri. "Met anybody interesting?'

"Yea," Castiel replied, biting his lip and nodding. Dean came around the corner, herding Ash, who had a dazed look on his face, without touching him and laughing at the way the other patient was running his hand astonishedly over the wall beside them as they walked. Green eyes flicked over to him and Kali and the laughed died in Dean's eyes first before he dropped them back down to Ash and urged the other man to walk faster. "I've made a couple of friends. Most of the people here are pretty nice."

"Uh-huh," Kali deadpanned, peering past Castiel as Dean moved out of his line of sight behind him, headed towards the day area. "Met anybody...extra nice? Extra interesting?"

"No." Castiel said firmly, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into his back and trying to focus on breathing so that he wouldn't hyperventilate from his lie. Michael said his biggest weakness was his inability to hide anything from anyone, but Anna said it was his greatest strength; fucking the importance of being earnest or something. "Everyone here is the regular amount of interesting."

"Sure," she said, smirking at him knowingly. "You should call Mike, he wanted to know if you planned on turning in those internship applications still. He said he would talk to your teachers about school if you need him to and that a couple of the internships would extend their deadlines if he just asked."

"Jesus fuck," Castiel groaned, earning a sharp look from Missouri who glanced up at the dying-moose sound he had made. "Why did you tell Michael?"

"He's family, duh."

"You're not family and you know," Castiel pointed out, running a trembling hand through his hair and gritting his teeth. Now he was going to have a panic attack? NOW?! "This is like life ruining shit here, Kali. What if I want to run for president or something someday?"

"Then you'll be an advocate for mental health awareness and proud of the obstacles you've overcome to get there," Kali replied firmly, putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly. "Take advantage of this situation, Cas. Figure your shit out and be honest with yourself and your doctor; with any luck you'll never have to be hospitalized ever again."

"Why is there a huge ring on your finger?" Castiel asked, focusing on the one thing that didn't have anything to do with himself or his problems, he was a pro at deflecting and fuck he needed a fucking deflection like crazy right now before his knees gave out and he started crying on the tile floor like a damn baby.

"Well, I may not be family yet..." Kali said, looking at her hand with a soft sigh and a smile before tucking it to Castiel's clenched fists with a firm determination.

"Gabe?"

"We haven't really told anyone yet," She confirmed with a small nod. "It didn't seem like the right time with first your mom being sick and then your dad has been freaking out, it just felt wrong."

"You've been engaged for a year?" Castiel said stunned, swallowing hard and shaking his head confusedly.

"We've been back together for a year," the other woman clarified. "And your mom knew that, but the engagement thing just happened recently and I'm taking the ring to get refitted so that's why I'm wearing it at all. All those chemicals we use to clean the restaurant take the shine right out of jewelry; I can't even wear earrings anymore."

"This is good," Castiel decided, voicing the opinion out loud and earning a smile from his future sister-in-law. "I'm happy for you both, really. You'll keep Gabriel from blowing himself up or something."

"Aww Cassie," Kali crooned, pulling him into another hug so that she could whisper the rest of her sentiment hotly into his ear. "I expect you to have a date for my freaking wedding. Don't make me set you up with someone, my cousins are all harpies."

He forced a chuckle and nodded, though honestly he couldn't picture himself spinning some faceless girl around a dance floor. The only girl he would ever want to take would be Meg and never in a million years was that going to happen, not unless he guilted her into it or something; Cas had seen Balthazar in a tux and by comparison he would look like a little boy playing dress up. It was laughable to even fantasize about it.

"It doesn't have to be a girl, Cassie." She added softly, giving him a final kiss on the cheek before turning briskly to Bobby and addressing the older man. "We good here? Everything I brought checks out?"

"No more books," Bobby grumbled, stacking up the study guides and thick library books that Castiel had borrowed to use as references for his paper on the counter top and pushing the folded pile of clothes and shoes towards Castiel with an apologetic nod. "Doctor's orders."

"Oh-kay?" Kali agreed balancing the books on her hip right as her phone started going off in her pocket. "Call Mike, Cas. He's worried about you too, y'know in that weird way he does."

"I'm calling dad later so I'll call him too," Castiel told her. "And welcome to my messed up family, Kal."

"I've been part of this madness since meeting Gabe. You Shurleys are like quicksand, you just sucked me right in and the harder I struggle to get away the deeper I get." Kali joked, catching his chin in her hand and looking at him sternly. "Love you, Cas. Be good and safe and just...give this a chance, for me?"

"For you and no one else, because you keep Gabe from harassing me."

"You have no idea," Kali muttered, rolling her eyes and gesturing towards the door so that Bobby could open it for her.

Castiel watched her go, sighing and trying not to think of how since his brother had started dating her when he was still in high school, she had always had him pegged. She called not only Gabe, but him and Mike and sometimes even Anna on their bullshit, using her fiery temper to quell arguments amongst the siblings because being on the receiving end of Kali's wrath was not something any of them wanted. Even Michael was cowed by her, his expensive suits and swanky apartment and company car doing nothing to protect him from her when she got really righteously angry about something. She was going to fit in to their family just fine, hell, she already did.

"Looks like you've got a pretty good support system there, Castiel." Missouri's voice spoke up behind him and he turned to find the therapist looking at him with an amused smile on her face. "A brother and a sister who care about you, not something a lot of my patients have. You're very lucky."

"I guess," he muttered, grabbing the stack of things Kali had brought him off the counter and holding it tightly against his chest. "I went to stress management today."

The therapist nodded, "I am aware, Ms. Zeddmore told me that you struggled a bit, but it is probably a good group for you to look into. Everyone deals with stress in different ways; maybe you just need to find a new way of dealing with yours."

He shrugged, glancing into the day area. Dean wasn't in there, but he had left Ash sitting on one of the couches with Becky at the other end, chattering and gesturing animatedly even though the other man didn't seem to be responding.

"Those uh...pills," Castiel stalled, hoping that Dean would show back up again, popping up out of nowhere like he seemed to do. He didn't know why he wanted to talk to Dean, but he sure as hell didn't want to sit through another group session by himself, maybe the other man was in the rec room.

"Fluoxetine," Missouri responded. "You'll take them in the morning and at lunch, one each time. We doubled up today because the prescription didn't get put in until after breakfast, but tomorrow when we talk I can adjust according to whatever family history you find out from your father. I need you to remember to call him, don't forget Castiel."

"I won't," he promised, edging slowly around her and looking pointedly towards the clothes in his arms. "I'm gonna go...uh...put this away."

The therapist nodded and turned towards Bobby, already talking to the nurse about something else involving the possibility of getting more staff during the daytime shifts. Castiel went and dumped his clothes on his bed, sighing with relief when he saw Charlie and Dean sitting in the rec room, looking slightly abashed as Ellen lectured them.

"Dean," the older woman was saying when he opened the door and slid around her, aiming for the armchair that sat empty next to Charlie. "You aren't a level, you know you aren't supposed to be in here."

"Missouri told me I didn't lose my level from sneaking out," Dean protested, glancing over at Castiel and licking his lips nervously. "El, let me stay. I'll be good for the rest of the day, no sneaking out or anything."

"Hon, you didn't have a level to lose and you should want to follow the rules every day, not just when you want brownie points," Ellen responded, putting her hands on her hips and sighing when Dean turned puppy-dog eyes onto her. "Three days and I don't want to hear you and Charlie playing that idiotic game. The one that leaves you both covered in bruises that make it look like Bobby and I are abusing you."

"Sock-off," Charlie whispered in Castiel's direction.

He nodded quickly at her, like the nonsensical name meant anything to him at all. But he pushed his glasses up his nose and grinned when Ellen tossed a book into Dean's lap off of the coffee table, urging him to read a book or something so that he didn't rot his brain with video games.

"What about Charlie? All she does is rot her brains," Dean commented, making a face at the romance novel that had ended up on him before holding it up towards Castiel with a pained look on his face. "Can you believe this shit?"

It was one that Cas had read, so he really had no comment for the other man besides a shake of his head that he hoped came across as disapproving instead of guilty.

"Watch your mouth," Ellen warned, holding up a stern finger that lost something in translation when she started chuckling. "And Charlie's got plenty of extra brains to let rot, yours are the ones I worry about Dean."

"Gee thanks," Dean muttered, leaning back comfortably on the couch as he watched the woman leave before he stuck his tongue out at her back and plopped down to lay his head in Charlie's lap. "Play something without guns, Charlie."

"Pokemon," the girl replied seriously, snatching up the controller where it was sitting next to her leg.

Castiel smiled and turned to sit cross-legged in the chair, placing his back against an armrest so that he could watch Charlie play the game. When he looked over at the pair again, Dean had his eyes shut and seemed to be sleeping in the other girl's lap, but his fingers were moving against his chest where they were resting; twitching and drawing swooping patterns on the material of the plain grey t-shirt he had on under his flannel.

He desperately wanted to know what Dean was going to give him. Cas knew it wasn't a drawing or anything, that was M.W. which he still needed to ask Charlie about once they got a second alone again, but he was still curious. Hell, maybe he should apply some of that psychobabble Maggie had been spewing about patience, besides he still had to worry about his phone calls. To his dad and to Michael and hell, he might as well fucking call Meg too while he was at it, just complete the circle of miserable conversations in one fell swoop before he met with Dean so that it was one less thing he had to stress about.

Because he might as well tell Meg he loved her, so that he could take care of the aftermath of that bombshell while he was in here with a therapist at his disposal. It was going blow up in his face, but liking a girl was better than liking a boy and if nothing else it might get him a pity date to Gabe and Kali's wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I'm writing weddings into everything, fuck it. Weddings for everyone! I will marry Sam to a puppy in this fic and then run off cackling into the sunset (not really, but wtf weddings freals). Anyway, glade to see the new readers and followers and reviews. All feedback is much appreciated and I love it as much as I love you all.


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel ended up spending a majority of the afternoon with Dean and Charlie, just watching the girl play video games and mutter obscenities under her breath while Dean dozed with his head in her lap and hummed softly to himself. It sounded like a vague mish-mash of classic rock songs and themes for television shows, Gilligan's Island and Three's Company being the only ones that he could pick out with any certainty.

He even played Pokemon for a little while, struggling terribly with the unfamiliar controller of the video game console and listening desperately to the pointers that Charlie was yelling at him until he got distracted by how great Dean looked when he was laughing and the girl snatched the controls back so that she could rescue his poor undertrained little skull dragon thingy from being destroyed. Cas knew that he was only making things worse for himself by hanging out with Dean.

Experience had taught him, mostly with Meg that the more time he spent alone with someone he admired or liked the worse it was when he was inevitably rejected or saw them with someone else. It shouldn't matter so much, it didn't matter because Dean may be too cool to be his friend if they were outside this place, but being in a mental institution seemed to be the great equalizer.

You didn't have to know what someone's job was, who their family might be, or what their plans after getting out of school were because all anyone was in this place was a name and a number on a thin plastic wristband and it was an invisibility that felt painfully familiar and comforting in all the ways that it shouldn't. No one here needed to know more about him than the surface details because like Charlie had explained to him at lunch, no one was going to ask about the specifics of his life unless they were willing to share there's. And that seemed highly unlikely.

So he conceded that yes, hanging out with Dean even with other people around was probably the dumbest idea he had had in a while, but he justified it by saying that as long as he didn't let the other man in, past the barriers and the safeties that he had put into place to keep himself from getting hurt then it would be ok. As long as he fought against the small part of his brain that was telling him that Dean equaled safe and calm and happy and all of the comforting words that he used to associate with watching his mom paint, then meeting with the other man after his phone calls and dinner shouldn't be a problem.

Because Meg equaled happy too or at least he got the same kind of gut-wrenching, spine tingling feelings of want when he thought of her also, but he was only getting those for Dean because he was confused and hopefully taking the medication that Missouri had given him would help that stop. He was supposed to want it to stop, right? Castiel did, he wanted it to stop, and he wanted to have normal relationships instead of ones that were based solely on what he or his family name could do for someone. So he would stop staring at Dean even if he had to walk around with his eyes closed and he would keep his traitorous hands to himself because he really really wanted to touch Dean's hair, just once, to see if it was as soft as it looked.

Thankfully, Dean chose the moment he was just about to break and lunge across the space separating him and the other man so that he could rub a lock of Dean's hair in between his fingertips, probably pushing Charlie into an extremely pissed off heap on the floor as he went, to get up and announce that he had something to finish and that he would see them all after he was done.

"But, Dean—" Charlie started, sounding slightly hurt as she paused her game with a little frown on her face.

"I'll be there, Charlie." Dean promised waving her off and looking pointedly at the other girl for a second before glancing at Castiel and licking his lips nervously. "I just have something to take care of first, you know I never miss."

"I'm holding you to that, Winchester." Charlie said sternly, smiling warmly at the other man before turning back to her game with a little flip of her hair over her shoulder. "Don't make me come hunt you down, I _will_ give Lisa those pencils back."

"You wouldn't dare," Dean replied, adopting an exaggerated frightened face before he addressed Castiel who did his best to look like he hadn't just been gaping open-mouthed at Dean's butt. He was just going to have to gouge his eyes out, that was the only solution. "Cas, I'll uh...see you later right? Seven?"

He cleared his throat and nodded quickly, knowing that he was blushing hot scarlet under the scrutinizing stare that the redhead had fixed him with, glancing back and forth between him and Dean with a sly smirk on her face that made him want to deny even knowing who Dean was in the first place. God, she was worse than Kali with that fucking look and it made him want to either hug her because the both of them were just so much like his sister that it hurt or throw a pillow at her face to make her stop looking at him like that. He chose to do the latter, softly, which made Dean smile again before leaving and it gave Castiel the chance to compose himself while Charlie sputtered weakly in protest at him.

"So hot date, huh?" Charlie asked, smoothing her hair back down where it had gotten ruffed during Castiel's half-hearted assault.

Cas felt himself blanch from her question, the blood that had been burning his face sinking all the way to his stomach to make it feel heavy and painfully full.

"No, not a date." He said quickly, his voice sounding too loud and too guilty and he knew that any hope he had had of convincing Charlie of the lie that he had been telling himself since lunch so that he wouldn't freak out and bail on Dean was gone as soon as the girl rolled her eyes at him and unpaused her game. "It's just...he has something he wants to give me."

"I'm sure Dean has a lot of things he'd like to give you," Charlie muttered, jabbing hard at the controller in her hand. "But not all of them involve plans and times and actual thought, he's more of a do it if it feels right kind of guy."

"Lucky guy," Cas said sourly, crossing his arms tight over his chest and turning his attention back towards the television.

He wished he was the kind of person who could just be spontaneous like that, act on whatever thoughts he had just because they felt right or good or whatever, but he was more the freak out and faint kind of guy. Especially if how long he had spent fantasizing about the drunken, close mouthed kiss on the lips that Meg had given him on New Year's Eve was any indication of how pathetically inept he was about know when the timing was right to do anything.

"This is the most cautious I've ever seen him actually," Charlie said with a shrug, looking meaningfully over at Castiel who had started gnawing on the jagged ends of his nails again, even though it hurt it was the kind of pain he needed to focus on instead of how much he sucked at everything he attempted to do, even fucking killing himself. "He must really li—"

"Are we doing this Charles?" Crowley drawled, sounding so entirely bored with living in general that Castiel wondered briefly how he was even still standing. "I have a very busy schedule you know. People to do, places to go."

"Go fucking where, Crowley?" Charlie snapped, obviously annoyed with having been interrupted by the disinterested foreigner when she and Castiel were talking.

He didn't reply, just stared at the red head with his eyebrow raised as she muttered more obscenities under her breath and saved her game. Charlie climbed to her feet and carefully set the video game controller down onto the coffee table, shutting off the TV, and heading towards the door. She stopped when she realized that Castiel wasn't following her, just sitting in the chair that he had been in for most of the afternoon with a look of utter despair on his face.

"You coming, Cas?"

"Hmm? To what?" Castiel replied, snapping out of the daze that he had lost himself in as he thought of how much easier it would've been to just have taken a bunch of sleeping pills and never wake up, if only he knew someone who had any.

"To the LGBTQ support group," Charlie explained, making an impatient gesture with her hand before she swept her hair off of her neck again with an annoyed sigh. Her hair was back in a bun again before he knew it and Cas had never understood how girls did that so quickly.

"No," he said biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from protesting more than that because otherwise it would sound suspiciously like he had something to hide. "I have to call my family, Missouri had some questions she wanted me to ask my dad."

"Oh, well. If you get done quick, we'll save you a seat," Charlie said shrugging at Castiel before spinning out of the room with Crowley trailing lazily behind her.

Cas knew there was no chance in hell of him going to that support group, he didn't need it because he wasn't any of those things. He was just...he had confusing feelings and...questions. Questions that he didn't feel comfortable asking a stranger about and no one in his family would understand.

Michael was practically a monk, his last girlfriend had been sometime in junior high and all Castiel could remember was him and Anna and Gabe teasing their older brother mercilessly with the kissing song over and over until the words started to lose all meaning. Gabe obviously had Kali and while he joked about being more than straight it was always only that, jokes. Anna, well, to Castiel she would always be his perfect angelic sister, probably the only person he would murder for if someone hurt her, but he knew that she liked those soft-spoken dancer boys she went to school with. None of them were gay or lesbian or even bisexual which would at least be something he could work with if it meant he wasn't the only one who was even more different from the rest of his siblings than he already was.

He stared miserably at the blank television screen for a little while, waiting until he was sure Charlie was down in the day area or wherever the group was being held so that he wouldn't have to lie to her again before he got up and went to retrieve the phone card that he had asked Gabriel to get him from his room so that he could use the payphone in the hallway outside of Dean and Charlie's room. Castiel scratched off the foil paint on the back of the card with the tip of what was left of his nail, grimacing a bit because the ragged, torn nubs were sensitive and raw, to reveal the code he needed underneath.

Cas tried not to glance into his friends' bedroom as he passed, but it was like a reflex. His neck just turned without him even thinking about it and he pushed down the instant disappointment that he felt when he didn't see Dean sitting on his bed inside the space, just a couple of scattered pens and pencils on the bed that his friend had been lounging on earlier and Charlie's copy of _The Hobbit_ lying in a spot of honor on top of her neatly stacked pillows.

"You're fucking being ridiculous," Castiel muttered, cursing himself for being so in over his head already that it felt like he was drowning.

This was worse than Alfie and that had been bad enough that he had considered changing his GRE study group before the other man started bringing his girlfriend, Muriel along with him under the pretense of her needing to study too. It was a thin excuse, but Cas knew that it was what they both needed to feel comfortable around each other again and the other girl made cookies that could rival Gabe's which made her a more than welcome addition as far as the rest of the group was concerned. For him it had come as a relief that she was there, but he had doubled up his dosage of Zoloft until he ran out, hoping to make it so he didn't feel guilty every time he looked at the man and his girlfriend.

And he didn't even have dreams about Alfie like he had Dean, he should feel so much worse now than he had then, but for some reason he couldn't summon up the same emotions when he thought of Dean and how he laughed and talked to him like he mattered. All he could feel was warmth settling in his bones and the desire to sleep wrapped safe in someone's arms just one more time like he had when he was a kid, feelings that he had always associated with his family and no one else, not even Meg.

He decided to call her last when he got to the phone, needing to reassure himself that he still felt more for his best friend's girlfriend than he ever had anyone else; felt the coursing need to have her want him like he wanted her, to have her notice him so that when he did go and meet Dean he would know that whatever feelings he thought he might be having for the other man were just an anomaly and nothing as serious as what he felt for Meg. Because he was starting to have even more questions, ones that were stacked on top of each other until they pressed all of the air out of his lungs and the only time his mind wasn't flooded with them was when he was around Dean.

It scared the shit out of him.

Castiel read through the instructions on the back of the phone card with the receiver cradled between his shoulder and his ear, listening to the droning buzz of the dial tone for a couple of seconds before he started punching in the number for his sister's cell phone first so that he could check to see how lucid his dad was before he braved that conversation.

" _My underage daughter's phone, Chuck Shurley speaking, how may I help you?"_

So much for preparedness.

"Dad," Cas said weakly, trying to sound enthusiastic and failing because he wasn't sure how to have this conversation with his father and he really didn't want to use the words 'hospital' or 'sick' because they would just remind him and the older man of his mother. "It's Castiel."

" _You act like I don't know my own son's voice,"_ his father groused, causing Cas to smile just a bit because he sounded good, together. More so than he had in a long time or even the last time he had talked to him. _"Did you end up doing what I told you do to? Are you calling from some rehab place or something because I didn't recognize the number?"_

"It's sort of like rehab, I guess," he muttered in reply, glancing nervously at Ruby who was leaning on the wall farther down the hallway, talking in heated whispers with Ash who still seemed slightly out of it if the way he was swaying slightly side to side was any indication. He saw the other man nod and fumble into the pocket where he had put his extra pills earlier before handing some over to Ruby. "Some people take it more seriously than others though."

" _Well what are you gonna do,"_ the older man said with a sigh. _"I guess you are calling to tell us you weren't going to be at your brother's thing tonight? Not like you can if you're on a locked ward."_

"Did you talk to Kali?"

" _No, your mother told me,"_ his father said offhandedly and Castiel shut his eyes hard against the pain that flared up at his temples. _"She's happy that you took her advice."_

"Dad—" Castiel warned, putting an arm against the wall to steady himself because he felt like his knees were going to give out underneath him and he really really did not want to talk about his mom right now. "I actually called for a reason."

" _I figured you hadn't just called me twice in one week because you missed me,"_ the older man stated jokingly. Chuck Shurley sounded so different on the phone, better than he look when Castiel had visited him last over a month ago , when his father had looked wan and hollow-eyed and had barely spoken to any of them over the awkward family dinner that he and Anna had made for the older man. _"What do you need, son?"_

"I'm in a mental ward," Castiel blurted, his father may think he knew, but he didn't know. The writer couldn't possibly know how dreamlike this was for him or how just the two days he had already spent cut off from his real life felt more real to him than a lot of other things had in a long long time. "In Brooklyn. Long Island College Hospital, my doc—um...therapist is named Missouri Moseley. She needs more information about my medical history, more than I knew so she wanted me to ask so that she could treat me better."

" _Well,"_ his father began, humming through the receiver in Cas's ear like he only did when he was lost in thought. He could almost picture his father scratching idly at the permanent stubble on his face or contemplatively cleaning his glasses like he did when he was stalling for time _. "You uh, you had asthma as a kid and you broke your arm from falling off of the jungle gym at school once, your mother about had a heart attack over that. Refused to let you go back to that hippie music school after that, said they weren't watching you carefully enough."_

"No," Castiel said around his smile, remembering how his mom had drawn an intricate landscape on the wrist part of his cast because Gabe had signed it so big that everyone else had to make do with what was left of the white, plaster canvas on his arm to leave their mark. It had been a beachscape, with the Coney Island Ferris wheel in the background and the boardwalk leading off into the sunset. "She mean's like my family medical history, my birth family. She needs to know if like mental instability runs in my family, I should have pointed her at Gabriel and let her psychoanalyze him for a bit."

He had expected his father to laugh at his thin joke, Gabe had always been the wild and outlandish one in their family and it was easy to say that he could be called crazy by an outside observer. But the older man was ominously silent on the other end of the phone, so quiet that Castiel could hear the keyboard clacking at the nurse's station on his end and Anna chattering around in the background on his father's end in SoHo.

" _What was your doctor's name again?"_ His father asked tightly.

"Missouri Moseley," Castiel replied confusedly, frowning at a spot of paint on the wall that someone had been picking at while they talked. "You can just tell me and I'll tell her, actually she has like a list of things she needs to know, but I forgot it in my room. Hang on just a sec, dad I'll go get it."

" _No that's okay, Castiel."_ Chuck Shurley replied quickly, stopping Cas just as he was trying to figure out which would be best, lying the phone horizontally on the cradle or letting it hang by its metal chord down towards the floor as he rushed to his room to get the list of questions that Missouri had given him earlier. _"I'll call her and talk to her, here you sister wants to talk to you. Anna, come say hello to your brother! I want you to call me if you need me son, I love you. I worry about you."_

"Don't worry about me, dad." Castiel protested softly, his father was avoiding telling him something. He was acting just like he had when Amelia Shurley's test results had come back, leaving his children to speculate to each other while he tried to shoulder the burden of his wife's illness alone until it became too hard to hide anymore.

" _Yea, well worry is what your mother and I signed on for when we decided to have children. I keep telling your sister that every time she offers to dye my hair, but I guess my decrepitude just doesn't sit right with her young, fragile nerves. Anna, out of the mirror now! Here she is, Castiel."_

"Thanks, dad." Castiel muttered, sometime between Anna discovering boys and him moving out of the house, Cas has forgotten how to speak to his younger sister.

She had become just another one of those girls who talked in riddles and circles around him and as much as he loved her, sometimes he just wanted to shake her and tell her she didn't have to play dumb in order to get boys to like her. If they couldn't handle her being smart and fierce and brave like their mom had been then they weren't worth her time. But he figured that she would learn that in her own time, just like he had learned to avoid the hallways and corners where the jocks who hated Michael had lurked and to stick close to Gabriel and his older friends as much as possible.

" _Cas!"_ his younger sister shrieked happily into the phone, causing him to pull it away from his ear and wince from the shrillness of the sound. _"Are you okay? You're going to miss the party!"_

"I'm working on okay, Anna." Castiel sighed, taking his glasses off so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose and try to relieve the tension headache he could feel bearing down on him. "And honestly, I probably would've missed it anyway; Balthazar forgot to give me my invitation. What is it for anyway?"

" _Some big, gay charity thing that Michael has convinced his firm to back, their new PR guy said it would make the company look a little bit less like soulless, money grubbing one percenters and you know Mike, always the crusader of the family,"_ Anna said in that rapid-fire way of speaking that she had sometimes when she was really excited about something. _"I bought a new dress for it. It's black, Cas. A little black dress and dad is letting me wear mom's wedding pearls. I look about a million different kinds of amazing. I wish you were going."_

"I look like shit in a tux anyway," Castiel muttered, allowing himself a momentary sulk before he remembered that the last charity thing he had gone to for Michael had ended up with him hurling all over the shoes of one of his brother's coworkers. Luckily it had just been someone's assistant and the woman had been very understanding, horrified, but understanding none the less. "Speaking of dresses, do you think I can borrow one from you for something?"

" _Do you have something else you need to tell us, Cas?"_ Anna teased, causing her older brother to immediately regret his choice in words and roll his eyes. _"There's nothing wrong with crossing dressing, but that just means that you and Mike won't be able to march together in the pride parade."_

"Whatever, its not for me jerk. There's a girl here who has an interview for a job or y'know, I'm not really sure what she needs it for, but she needs some dress clothes. Something professional looking and I think you and her are close to the same size, do you have something that you think might work?"

" _Yea, I'm pretty sure I have a Hilary Clinton pantsuit or something around here, need jewelry?"_

"Just whatever girls wear with that kind of stuff," Castiel replied with a shrug, reaching out a tentative finger to pick at the misshapen blotch of peeled paint some more. "When do you think you can bring it by?"

" _Well, I'm going out of town for the rest of spring break with Hael and Nate to their parent's house in Montauk, but I will ask Mike or Gabe if one of them can bring it to you."_ Anna said offhandedly. _"Do you think I should wear my hair curly or straight?"_

"Jeez, Anna." Castiel muttered, wincing away from the paint splotch when a piece of it stabbed him hard under his nail bed, making it well up red with blood. "I'm not a girl, I don't know. Straight?"

" _Ugh that's going to take for fucking ever,"_ his younger sister cursed. _"I guess I better go do that then. Do you need anything else, Cas? Fashion advice? Dancing tips? A list of reasons why it is time for you to stop pining over Meg already?"_

"What does that have to do with anything?" Castiel snapped.

" _You realize that I talk to Kali like pretty much every day, right?"_ Anna asked, sounding smug and snide in all the ways he hated girls to sound when it was directed at him. _"I'm just saying that you complain all the time about how no one ever notices you, but then you don't realize it when someone does. Maybe you just need new glasses or something, we'll you Lasik."_

"I'm going," Cas warned, leaning closer to the cradle of the phone with the receiver, threatening to hang it up with his body language even though he knew that his sister couldn't see him. "You're being a butt face and I'm hanging the phone up now, love you. Thank you for the clothes."

" _Cas, I'm just going off of what Kal told me, don't get all secretive and closed off like you do when you're upset."_ Anna protested, sighing hard into the phone, probably through her nose which he always told her made her look like an angry bull. _"Just...shit fuck...I wish you were coming with us tonight, it would be good for you. I'll send a couple of outfits, okay? Love you, brother bear."_

"Love you, sister soldier. Make sure Dad has fun tonight, please?"

" _The funnest, bye."_ Anna signed off with Castiel hanging up the phone into the cradle with a determined click.

He hated talking on the phone so fucking much and just the one conversation had made him tired as hell, but that was just one down and he had two more to go. Talking to Meg was starting to look more and more like the least painfully confusing conversation he would have tonight and it annoyed him to no end that Anna and Kali felt the need to gossip about him like schoolgirls behind his back, fucking no good meddlers.

Castiel dialed in the number to Michael's office, glancing at the clock which showed that it was about a quarter to five already. His brother always rode the clock, staying at work most nights until well after five o'clock finishing up things that he was doing for the various charities he participated in or the accounts that he serviced. Gabe had joked once that he might as well get a futon for his large, corner office since he was there all of the time anyway. Even with the dinner or gala or whatever snooty term they had used on the invitation to the party tonight that he hadn't gotten, Cas had just assumed that his oldest brother would still be there so he was surprised and only slightly put off by Michael's secretary telling him that he had left already.

After dialing his cell phone next, Castiel sank down next to the phone to sit on the floor, pulling the metal chord taunt as he brought his knees up to rest his forearms on them. It rang, once, twice...three times. By four he was ready to hang up, but he didn't because that was when someone answered, only it wasn't his brother or a secretary or even a voice he recognized at all.

" _Michael Shurley is unavailable right now because he lost the three hundred dollar cufflinks I gave him! And is looking for them, can I take a message?"_

"Um...who is this?" Castiel asked warily, reaching down in an attempt to tug the cuffs of his borrowed sweat pants down again. He was going to have to change before he met with Dean later, not that it should matter, because he looked like a huge fucking dork with his high-waters on.

" _Who is this?"_ the voice on the other end countered and Castiel was immediately relieved that there was someone who could possibly sass right back at his brother answering his phone, for whatever reason it may be. Michael was far too used to people bowing and scraping and worshipping him for Castiel's taste, he needed to be brought back down to this planet once and a while and really the task should fall to more people than just their immediate family.

"This is his brother, Castiel." He explained, biting his lip and hoping the strange voice's first reaction wasn't to exclaim over how sad it was that he was in a mental ward. It was bad enough that his whole family knew, he didn't want it getting farther than that. "I was just calling to uh...check in. Tell him I was okay."

" _Your whole family is just the sweetest, calling each other all the time to make sure each other is alive, more than father can say. I'm Luke by the way, I work with Michael, public relations."_

"So this whole charity thing tonight was all your doing?" Castiel asked. "From how my sister described you, I would not have pegged you for the type of person to by three hundred dollar cufflinks."

" _Between you, me, and the sea, Castiel?"_ Luke replied, lowering his voice conspiratorially. _"I spent about twenty bucks on them, I'm just trying to put some hitch in his giddy up finding them, we were supposed to be at the venue twenty minutes ago to meet with Gabriel."_

"I won't keep you then," Cas said with a sigh, slightly relieved that he had dodged having at least one conversation that he really had not wanted to have. "Just um...tell Mike that I called him and have him call me back at this number just whenever is fine. I'm not in any hurry."

" _Yea he was saying something about you and school and internships, so serious. I told him to let you enjoy your spring break, you're only young once."_

"I think my brother skipped being young and just went straight to being responsible and uptight," Castiel muttered sourly.

" _Nah, you just gotta know the right way to finagle him. I've learned that Broadway seems to do it for him, but we'll keep that just between just the two of us also, right Castiel?"_

"Of course, it was nice meeting you, sort of." Castiel told the other man, smirking confusedly over their almost, accidental almost introduction and tilting his head so that he could hold the receiver with his chin and scratch his bare ankle.

" _It was nice to sort of meet you too, Castiel. I'll tell Michael you called."  
_

Castiel reached up blindly, struggling to hang up the phone again because he didn't want to get up unless he was going to stay up and he almost didn't want to call Meg because he knew it was going to be horrible. Even ending his not really phone call with Michael's coworker, that had been pleasant and confusing in an unexpected way, had not helped settle the churning, boiling nausea that was climbing up his throat when he thought of telling Meg how he felt about her.

Because he was so stupidly, destructively in love with her that the only way it could all end would be bad and the rational side of him knew that. The irrational side still foolishly held out hope that maybe she had been pining after him for the last four years too and that her relationship with Balthazar was just some contorted way she had of getting closer to him.

"Need a hand?"

Castiel looked up to see Crowley leaning against the wall across from him, watching him with a sharkish smile on his face. The other man was all in black today, decked out in dapper looking business casual with the top couple of buttons of his black dress shirt opened at the collar. He felt nothing when he looked at the other man; not the safe, comforting warmth that he felt around Dean or the burning, almost painful desire that he got with Meg. It was just a blankness, the empty nothingness that he had gotten so used to over the past year that he hadn't even realized until now that it hadn't been his constant companion since arriving at the hospital.

"I have one more phone call to make," Castiel replied emptily, it felt like the tile and the bland off-white hospital paint and Crowley's monochromatic wardrobe were just leeching all of the color and warmth out of his life again. This felt about right, this felt normal. "Aren't you supposed to be in some group somewhere? You seemed pretty impatient earlier."

"Those fags and dykes are always so touchy feely; I really should stop expecting any grand dramas or romances to come out of there. Its just so...dull. Here, allow me," Crowley stepped forward and flicked his finger over the metal piece on the pay phone that made the dial tone restart. "What number are you trying to reach?"

"I need to use my phone card," Castiel muttered, reaching half-heartedly for the thin card before Crowley waved him off.

"Nonsense, call the bird collect. I am correct in assuming that it is a girl?" Crowley asked, glancing down at Castiel who just nodded at his knees. "You didn't strike me as the type to be in the throes of some sexual identity crisis, much more put together than those drama queens in LGBTQ. Crying over how they had such a hard time coming to term with themselves and blah blah blah. How difficult is it to just be attracted to who you're attracted to and leave it at that? Why does there have to be a sob story attached to it?"

"Because people are bullies," Castiel offered the other man who just rolled his eyes in response.

"Must just be Americans, I've never had a problem with it. Everyone loves me exactly the way I am, why wouldn't they? I'm perfect. Number?"

 _More like you're a narcissist,_ Castiel thought, rattling off Meg's cell phone number and then holding the phone up to his ear, blocking out Crowley who continued to chatter and loiter around him.

He fought against the panic that griped him when the automated system asked for him to insert name here when it was telling Meg who she was getting a collect call from, half of him prayed that she would reject the call because then that would be a sort of finality, the ultimate way of her saying that she didn't want to have anything to do with him. It would be like hearing her say 'Castiel who?' after he said his name, but of course that wasn't what he heard because the little automated voice lady was talking again, telling him that his call had been accepted and he was about to die right there on the cold tile floor from a fucking heart attack.

" _Castiel Jeremiah Shurley!"_ Meg admonished. _"Where in the ever loving fuck are you? I needed my dress from the dry-cleaners so that I could wear it to this thing Balthy is taking me to tonight. It's like the only fancy dress that I have and Kelly told me she would pass the message on to you since you weren't responding to my texts."_

"First, my middle name is not Jeremiah." Castiel said, sighing and running a hand through his hair. It came away sweat slicked and he grimaced at the perspiration before wiping it disgustedly on his t-shirt. "Secondly, her name is Kali, not Kelly and thirdly, what is Balthazar taking you to tonight? Is it a charity event?"

" _Yea, how did you know?"_ Meg asked excitedly. _"He says he got the invitation weeks ago, but just found it in the mail you guys leave scattered all over the counter a few of days ago and remembered about it. That's why I need my dress, Cas."_

"I'm not going to bring you your fucking dress, Meg!" Castiel shouted, causing Crowley to give him a surprised look before slinking off around the corner back towards the rec room and the showers.

" _Well ex-cuse me,"_ Meg scoffed and he could almost picture the offended look that she had on her face, how her nose would crinkle up distastefully and her lips would purse in displeasure. He hated that he had been the one to cause that look, the one that was reserved for waiters who brought her regular bottled water instead of French mineral water when she would meet him between his classes for lunch. _"Sorry for asking for one little favor from you, Castiel. I know you're soooo busy. You have all those fucking papers to write all of those fucking books to read because you're just so much damn smarter than the rest of us to be bothered with doing normal things like interacting with people."_

"I can interact with people," he replied weakly, banging his head softly on the wall behind him and just wishing that it would be enough that his skull might cave in and put him out of his misery already. "I haven't been answering your texts because I'm interacting with people. I'm not a complete social reject."

" _Oh and who is this mystery person that you're interacting with? Who doesn't care that you're calling other girls collect and you're paying for this call, I might add, while you're with them?"_ the love of his life, future mother of his children asked sounding spitefully amused.

"Their name is..." Castiel searched around the hallway, looking for something that he could used to make up a name in a Jan Brady inspired moment of ill-planned spontaneity. His eyes landed on the name plate for Dean and Charlie's bedroom. "Charlie."

" _Oh, well Cas."_ Meg struggled. _"I mean...I guess that makes sense, I've never really seen you with a girlfriend or anything."_

"Short for Charlene," he explained quickly. "Charlie is short for Charlene. A girl. A girl person who I'm just friends with."

" _I didn't know you had other friends that were girls,"_ Meg replied softly, sounding slightly hurt to his wishful ears. _"That's good though, I can't be the only one trying to set you up all the time. You hate all my single friends anyway."_

"You single friends are all horrible, but that's not why I called." Castiel said, searching for the best way to explain his feelings to the girl without freaking her out. He blew out a heavy breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, settling on the shared memory that Meg was most likely to remember. "Do you remember that party? The one from freshman year where me and you and Balthazar all met each other?"

" _Of course I remember it, Cas. It was pretty much the party that changed my life, introduced me to the two most important people in it, I'll never forget it."_

"Good, well listen. I know this is going to sound strange and possibly offensive, but did you come to that party that night knowing that you were going to hook up with someone?" Castiel held his breath.

He knew that Meg wasn't exactly shy about her sexuality and she and Balthazar had gone through numerous 'breaks' where she had paraded other guys through their apartment to make his roommate jealous. But no girl liked to be called a slut or easy so he was waiting for her to completely and utterly verbally tear him limb from limb.

" _Wow,"_ she began, clearing her throat softly. _"Direct much? I mean, how am I supposed to answer that, Cas?"_

"Just forget I said anything," he offered quickly, rapping his knuckles agitatedly on the floor beneath him.

" _No, I'll answer just...fuck. I mean, I was a freshman, Cas. I wasn't looking for anything serious then so I guess the answer is yes,"_ Meg told him, he could hear a faint clattering sound in the background. She was probably putting on her makeup, he watched her do it sometimes sitting on the closed toilet lid while she pouted and applied her lipstick, smirking at him in just her pajamas before she came back later asking him to zip her into whatever dress she was wearing to go out with Balthazar in. _"Why does it matter?"_

"Well, I've just always wondered..."

" _Wondered what, Cas?"_

"If I had a shot," he said softly. "With you."

" _No, we are not talking about this."_ Meg said briskly.

"Please, Meg. I just need to know. Pretend that I'm dying."

" _If you were dying I still wouldn't answer,"_ Meg snapped angrily. _"It's a ridiculous question to ask. The kind that ruin friendships, Cas. And you're one of my best friends."_

"Please." He as begging, but he needed to know if he had anything in that apartment worth going back to, if he had anything worth getting better waiting for him outside of here.

" _I told you I wasn't looking for anything serious. Me and Balthazar, we just kind of happened and you well, you were just so shy and quiet and sweet. I honestly thought you were gay for like six months until Balthazar and I walked in on you kissing that girl, what was her name?"_

"April," Castiel said softly. She had been his lab partner during freshman biology and later had come out to him right before the end of the semester; apparently he had been her last try at heterosexuality for her parents before she finally admitted to herself that she only liked girls. That rejection still hadn't stung as much as the ones he got from Meg on pretty much a daily basis that first year she had been dating his roommate. "Why did you think I was gay?"

" _Because you never made a move, Cas_!" Meg exclaimed. _"On literally anyone, even me. And Balthazar and I weren't officially anything for almost that entire first year. Not until you two got the apartment and separate bedrooms with doors that locked."_

Death.

"I never knew that."

" _You never asked, you were always so worried about your grades and you never wanted to go out anywhere. It would almost suck for anyone to date you at all. You need to learn to have fun,"_ Meg groused. _"But see, this is better now. We're friends and when Balthazar pisses me off I can come talk to you and I know you'll listen. You're such a good listener, you're like my only girlfriend."_

Double death.

"What if I tried now?" Castiel asked, he had nothing left to lose at this point. The love of his life had just told him that she had thought he was gay, that he had been too self-absorbed to take his chance with her when he had it, and that he was forever relegated to the friendzone, all in less than five minutes.

" _You're too big of a chicken,"_ Meg teased. _"Plus it would just ruin Balthazar and you love him, so there. Listen, Cas, I need to get going."_

"Yea, yea, go enjoy your glamorous party. I just wanted to clear that up, y'know leave no stone unturned." He hoped it came across like the rejection didn't bother him, like he was only calling her as a last resort, but his voice broke on the last word and an awkward silence hung between them in the dead space airwaves of their phone call.

" _You're okay, right, Cas?"_

"I'm fine," He lied. "Been drinking a little bit, its fine. You know how I get all philosophical and existential when I drink, no big deal."

" _Just don't do anything stupid, I worry about you."_ Meg warned.

 _You and everybody else_ , he thought ruefully.

"I won't. Bye, Meg." Castiel mouthed 'I love you' into the phone, mostly because no one was around to see it and she couldn't hear it. Meg was totally right about him, he was a complete wuss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry about this update taking so long. I just haven't been feeling it and the last week has been so stressfully busy at work that all I've wanted to do when I get home is sleep. But this is an update and its a long one and I hope that makes up for the wait.
> 
> On a more personal note, those of you that have read the actual novel 'It's Kind of a Funny Story' or seen the movie or maybe read one of his other books, might have heard that Ned Vizzini had been battling depression since he was a teenager. His writing has always been right up there with Perks of Being a Wallflower and so many other books that helped me make it through my own hellish teen years in small-town Southern America, but unfortunately he lost his own battle with depression earlier this last week. As sad as it is I hope that his suicide brings more awareness to the fact that depression and bipolar disorder and other mental health problems ARE REAL and people are not just making them up for attention, its a life-long struggle that doesn't just magically go away as you get older. If anyone reading this is struggling with depression because trust me, I know how it can get during the holidays, and needs to talk, I am here to offer a virtual shoulder to cry on.
> 
> This fic will continue even though some might consider it sacrilege or bad taste for me to do so, I think that I might be able to add my own interpretation to the struggles of coming out while also having a mental illness and my only hope is that it does justice to Ned Vizzini and his memory.


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel felt numb after his phone call with Meg. Not just like the normal kind of numb- the kind that they talked about in movies that were set in really cold places, like Greenland, or the kind of numb where you were sat in one position for too long and then your foot or your hand fell asleep and when you did finally move it felt all static clingy tingly. He just felt nothing.

Nothing like when he had looked at Crowley and felt nothing. Nothing like when he had watched them lower his mom into the ground and felt nothing. Nothing...like when he had gotten beaten up that one time in highschool, just for being Michael Shurley's little brother and the black vortex of emptiness inside of his head when the jocks had called him worthless and stupid and queer had opened up to swallow him whole and keep him from realizing that he was shrieking until Gabriel had shown up with his friends to stop the whole thing.

The kind of nothing where he didn't even realize that he had gotten off of the floor, walked down the hallway, and crawled into his bed until Charlie was shaking him out of his miserable stupor and telling him it was time for dinner.

"I don't want to go," he told her, pulling the thin hospital covers high up over himself in an effort to block out the dim light that was shining on him from the light to the ensuite bathroom being on. "Just leave me here to die already."

"Oh drama, drama." Charlie sighed, tugging the covers off of him and tossing them across the room out of Castiel's reach. "Listen I heard you had a bad phone call, but its not the end of the world."

"Who told you that?" Castiel asked, sitting up suddenly in the bed and grimacing at the sweat that had soaked through his clothes and his bed sheets and he probably smelled fucking lovely to top it all off.

"Crowley said you called a girl, I assume it was 'the girl' that you were moaning about in the E.R., but hey at least now you know, y'know? Tis better to have loved and lost and all that bullshit." The girl said, waving her hands around in an abstracted kind of way. "Now you'll know the real thing when you see it. Get up, come to dinner. Please, Cas."

"No, no I won't know the real thing," Castiel complained, kicking off his laceless Converse and reaching for the Vans that Kali had brought him that had stayed stacked on the end of his bed along with the clothes that were actually his own that he had been so stupidly excited about earlier. "Meg was the real thing and now I'll never ever know her. I'm going to die alone."

"Are you using the word 'know' in the Biblical sense right now?" Charlie asked, looming near his dresser with her hands on her hips. Castiel noticed that Becky was standing watch for the other girl near the doorway and had clapped a hand over her mouth to try to muffle the giggles that were slipping out. "Because if you are, that's super gross."

"You're super gross," Castiel muttered childishly, clambering to his feet and snatching his shampoo out of Charlie's hand with as much grace as he could muster. "I'm not hungry."

As if on cue, his stomach growled.

 _Fucking Judas,_ he thought miserably as Charlie glanced pointedly at his abdomen and smirked triumphantly. _You haven't growled in eight fucking months and you decide to now?_

"Well I don't want fucking grilled cheese and tomato soup," Castiel snapped, grabbing his body wash and his towel before turning back to his bed and picking out a pair of jeans and his old Dinosaur Jr. T-shirt along with his cardigan. He started towards the door, but was caught by Charlie right as he passed Becky who skirted out of his way meekly.

"Where are you going?" She asked, grabbing onto his elbow softly causing Castiel to sigh frustratedly.

"Not that it's any of your business," he groused, motioning with his armful of clothing and hygiene products towards the end of the hallway that had the showers. "But I'm fucking covered in sweat and I would like to spend the rest of my night not feeling like shit. A shower is going to make me feel better."

"You're still meeting Dean, right?" Charlie asked, biting her lip anxiously and fiddling with a strand of her hair that had come loose out of her bun.

Castiel stopped short at that, his heart doing a funny little whinging twist in his chest when he thought of Dean sitting on that stupid fucking bench just watching the clock that was above the cafeteria door and getting more and more disappointed. God, he was going to look like a complete jerk if he stood the other man up for their meeting, especially after it already looked like he couldn't seem to make up his mind about whether or not he even wanted to be Dean's friend. Fucking blushing and stuttering like a half-wit moron one second and then snapping the next, Cas was giving off all the wrong signals if he wanted to actually have a normal friendship with someone. And more than anything he just wanted one good thing to come out of this whole ordeal, Dean more than counted as a good thing.

"Also not your business," Castiel started, feeling grumpy mostly because he was hungry and even grilled cheese sounded not entirely horrible the more he thought about it, but he had already made such a fuss about not going to dinner that he was going to look like a spaz if he changed his mind, plus he really didn't want to gross Dean out with how sweaty he was either.

But then he saw Charlie's hopeful smile start to falter and he felt bad for being mean to her too, no one deserved to be treated badly just because he had gotten almost the exact brush-off that he had expected from Meg; just with the added bonus of her thinking he was gay and her telling him he had had a chance but missed it and fuck everything maybe he would just go sit in the shower for a while and cry.

He just took a deep breath instead and barred his teeth in something that he hoped looked more like a smile instead of a grimace for the other girl. "I'm still going to meet Dean, Charlie. Just...can you give me some privacy?"

"Sure!" Charlie exclaimed, pressing a hand against her chest in relief and tugging on the baggy sleeve of Becky's sweatshirt to get the other girl moving. "Yes, yes. We'll go. Come on, Becky we're going come on before he gets all grouchy again."

"Yea, we can help Dean pick out something to wear," Becky squeaked excitedly, slapping Castiel lightly on the arm before she and Charlie rushed away down the hall towards the nurse's station.

"Shut the fuck up, Becks!" Charlie hissed, glancing back over her shoulder at Castiel and waving at him before they ducked into the day area and out of his sight.

He shrugged and headed towards the showers, taking care to flip the sign so that no one would walk in on him like he was terrified of happening after Dean's introductory warning the day before. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had gotten on the ward, way more than just a day and he wondered how his mom had been able to stand all of that time that she had spent sitting in hospitals while she got chemotherapy or the final languishing weeks that she had been confined to a bed stuck full of tubes and surrounded by beeping machines as the world crept on endlessly around her. Time moved differently here than other places, slower.

Castiel tried not to think too much in the shower, tried not to dwell on the things that Meg had told him that probably everyone fucking thought about him. He tried not to think of what it might mean for him if he just decided to say fuck it and be the person that people apparently already assumed that he was because he couldn't do that. His family had expectations for him and they did not involve him having some belated bout of rebelliousness that he should've indulged in before grad school started looming on the horizon. What would his father say? Fuck, what would Michael say if he just shoved all of those internship applications in Missouri's trash can?

The thought of his brother's reaction made him panicky, made breathing in the thick steamy air of the shower unbearable and too much to handle so Castiel cut his shower short and threw on the new clothes that he had picked out before going to toss the ones that Gabriel had lent him back into his room.

"You should do something with your hair," Rufus mumbled behind him, causing Castiel to startle slightly as he was realigning his soap bottles on his dresser and shoving his dirty clothes in the laundry bag that the overnight orderly, Jim had given him that morning when he had been roaming restlessly around the halls after his shower before other people had started getting up and moving around and he had been scared back into his bedroom.

"What's wrong with my hair?" Castiel asked, moving over to the bathroom so that he could look in the mirror that was there.

He turned his head from side to side, smoothing down the worst of the cowlicks that his hair always stuck up in and sighing in resignation over how pale and horrible he looked all the time no matter what he did. Castiel rubbed a hand over his jaw, wincing at the sharp sting of stubble that was on his cheeks and chin; Jim had told him earlier that morning if he wanted to shave then he had to be watched. It really didn't seem like a big deal when no one else was awake to see him being watched over like a teenager learning to shave by the older, softly spoken tired eyed man, but he was willing to bet that Bobby would be too busy dealing with the aftermath of dinner and the chaos that seemed to follow every meal on the ward to chaperone him with a razor.

"Unless you plan on kissing someone I wouldn't worry about shaving," Rufus grumbled, kicking at the covers around his feet for a moment before turning his back on Castiel who was now blushing furiously and frantically trying to remember if he had made any noises when he had woken up coming in his fucking pajama pants that morning. What if he had said Dean's name? Shit, it was fully fucking possible, it wouldn't be the first time that he had talked in his sleep.

"Why would I be kissing anyone?" Cas asked the other man, trying to keep the hysterical guilt out of his voice because he didn't need it getting back to Dean that he was having dreams about him, normal friends did not have sexy dreams about each other. "This is a hospital, people don't kiss each other in hospitals."

"Boy, have you even met Becky? Or seen Dr. Sexy M.D.? All those people do is lock lips; I was just trying to make you feel better. Excuse my poor attempt at a joke," Rufus snapped over his shoulder, tugging the blanket up over his head in a signal that Castiel took as meaning that the conversation was over.

"I'm sorry Rufus," Castiel said softly, watching as the older man's shoulders made a shrugging motion underneath the blankets and then stilled into the steady rise and fall of the other man's breathing again.

He leaned heavily over the sink, staring at his miserably thin reflection that looked too pale in the fluorescent lighting and the circles that looked too dark under his eyes even though he had gotten a fairly good amount of sleep the night before. Castiel figured that this was probably as good as it was going to get, wrinkled t-shit and too big cardigan and glasses that made him look like a stupid moon-faced owl. He ran a hand over his mouth and debated about whether or not he should brush his teeth before meeting Dean, not that he had eaten anything that would make his breath smell bad as his stomach kept reminding him and that probably fell into the same category as shaving- it just wasn't something that he should be thinking about because he shouldn't be close enough for Dean to care anyway.

God, maybe he wanted to kiss D—No.

"I can't go," he said to his reflection, trying to convince himself that he didn't want to go, that besides calling Meg it hadn't been something that he had been looking forward to all freaking afternoon after Dean first asked him to meet him during lunch.

It was going to be bad if he went, especially now that he didn't have his Meg shaped safety net to fall back on; he was going to do or say something stupid that would weird the other patient out and he would be left with no one to talk to. Because Dean would tell Charlie about his uncomfortable, unreciprocated crush (weren't all of his crushes like that?) and Charlie would tell Becky and Becky would tell Ash until everyone on the ward either felt sorry for him or were making fun of him behind his back. As far as he knew, Dean had no Muriel to save him from how potentially awkward this could all be if he tried to hang out with the other man alone.

"I just can't go, right Rufus?" Castiel asked, turning towards the other man and putting his hand out in attempt to garner some sympathy for his pathetic fucking life. "I mean if I go then I'm going to say something to screw it up, my friendship with Dean. And he's really nice and sweet and I need nice and sweet in my life right now. I just want nice and sweet."

"Probably won't be very nice to you if you stand him up, kid," Rufus replied sounding annoyed at Castiel trying to talk himself out of the one good thing he might experience that day. "Go or don't go, either way just shut the hell up already."

"So I'm gonna go then," Castiel muttered to himself, pushing up the sleeves of his cardigan and taking a deep steadying breath before he left the room, hitting the light for the bathroom and the bedroom on his way out and leaving Rufus in darkness.

He stood in the hallway outside his bedroom door for a second as the full force of what he was about to do almost made him turn around to go give up whatever little bit of his lunch might be left in his stomach to the porcelain gods. This wasn't a date, Dean just had something to give him and fucking Meg might think he was gay, but he liked girls. He fucking liked Meg, so he couldn't be gay; he just appreciated how some men looked more than others, like how everyone: male, female, gay, straight, and in between thought that Ryan Gosling was hot. Dean was just his outlier, his Ryan Gosling and if he couldn't handle being alone with the other man for more than five minutes without molesting him then he didn't deserve to have Dean as his friend in the first place.

Plus according to Charlie, someone else on this ward liked him. Liked him enough to draw him something and so far the only name he had heard that started with an 'M' on the unit was Martin and he just really really hoped it was anyone besides the gaunt looking older man that had been in stress management with him who had drawn him the picture that was still pressed between the pages of his GRE study guide. Because it wasn't Dean and there was no way he should get his hopes up about something that wasn't possible.

Castiel made it all the way to the bench outside of the cafeteria before he realized that his feet had carried him down the hall and past the nurse's station without him noticing. Dean wasn't there yet and a glance at the clock above the cafeteria doors showed that it was about five minutes past seven; maybe the other man had given up and wouldn't that just be the story of his fucking life. He sat down heavily on the wooden bench with his elbows on his knees and glanced down the hallway towards the phone that had effectively ruined all of his hopes and dreams earlier.

Ash was on the phone now, talking to someone and Lilith had dragged one of the hard folding chairs out of the rec room to lurk near him, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor while the other man spoke. No one else was in the hallway and Ellen was sitting at the nurse's station, typing something off of papers with a little frown creasing her forehead as she pecked at the keys of the computer. Castiel looked down at his hands, at his torn, ugly nails and the long fingers that he had always been told by his teachers were piano playing fingers, not that he did that anymore. Dean wasn't coming and Castiel tried to figure out if he was sad for that reason or for the many other things that had gone wrong for him recently, it was kind of hard to pinpoint just one thing.

"Hey," a voice said causing Castiel to look up to see Dean ambling down the hallway towards him from his bedroom with a wide smile on his face. "You showed, had me worried there for a second."

"Yea," Castiel breathed, eyeing the plain black t-shirt that the other man had changed into along with a pair of jeans that looked different from the ones Dean had been wearing earlier, tighter maybe. He cleared his throat awkwardly when he realized that he was staring at how Dean's shoulders and upper arms looked in the form-fitting material of his shirt. "I mean, I had other plans, but y'know I canceled them. So whatever."

It was the first time that he had seen Dean without something covering his arms, besides when the other man had just pushed up his sleeves earlier during group and though there were scars, lots of deep jagged looking scars that continued past Dean's elbow and under the shorter sleeves of his t-shirt; that wasn't what his eyes kept straying to. It was the subtle shift of muscles in Dean's biceps, how his arms flexed almost unconsciously as he sat down next to him on the bench and crossed one of his legs under the other so that he could turn to face Castiel.

Dean grinned at him, settling his hands self-consciously in his lap before he looked up at Castiel under his eyelashes. "I thought I might have scared you off earlier, with the whole group thing. I wanted to give you time to change your mind."

"No," Castiel joked, flushing hot under the other man's scrutiny before he pushed the sleeves of his cardigan up high on his arms. "I mean, its not like Crowley and Dick know what they're talking about anyway, right? You haven't like known them for years or anything."

The other man scoffed slightly, rubbing at the back of his neck for a second before he saw how Castiel was watching the movement and he crossed his arms over his chest. Castiel dropped his eyes to his lap, he really needed to stop staring at Dean obviously it was making him uncomfortable. Why did he have to be so fucking good looking though?

"I've actually been in a hospital with Crowley before," Dean offered softly, frowning to himself for a second before he looked back at Castiel. "Dick too. Kind of a hazard when you're a frequent visitor, you get to know the regulars' dirty secrets. I really should be used to them by now, I just didn't like them talking bad about Charlie, she's a good person, y'know?"

"Yea, uh she kind of reminds me of my sister a bit," Castiel said shyly, wanting to ask what Dean meant about being a frequent visitor, but feeling like it probably crossed that line into sharing more than he wanted to with the other man if he was going to keep himself from becoming too attached. "But...um did I miss anything at dinner?"

"Uh, yea you did." Dean said excitedly, hopping to his feet and rushing down to Ellen where he spoke in low tones with the other woman before she nodded and surreptitiously looked around, handing him something that Dean hid behind his back.

Castiel watched as Dean sauntered back towards him, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before he whipped a plated piece of apple pie out from behind his back and presented it with the sort of pomp and circumstance usually only reserved for Purple Hearts and the British Crown Jewels. "Pie! Charlie told me that you said you weren't hungry, but that you really were so I asked Ellen if I could save you a piece of pie. It's pretty much the best thing they make here."

"Oh this is awesome, Dean." Castiel blurted, taking the plate from the other man and trying to figure out if it was the most thoughtful gesture anyone had ever made to him or not, he was pretty sure it was at least in the top five. "This couldn't be what you wanted to give me though, right? I mean you couldn't have known at lunch that I was going to skip dinner."

"No, that's not it," Dean mumbled, blushing a faint tinge of pink that Castiel would've missed if he had been following his own damn rules and not fucking staring at the other man. He was fighting a losing battle. "But um...let's play a game for it. If you win you get what I was going to give you and if I win then...um...I dunno, I get your sweater."

"Why do you want my sweater? You have like a million flannels," Castiel asked looking down at his worn, stretched out blue cardigan that he had had for so long that he couldn't even remember where it had come from anymore.

"Because Charlie hid all my flannels from me," Dean explained, trailing the fingers of his right hand absently over the scars on his left forearm before he realized what he was doing. "That's why I was late, I was trying to find them. But I think she hid them in Becky's room and I'm not dumb enough to go in there. My level will get dropped faster than a New Year's resolution in a cupcake shop. Nope, I want yours if I win."

"Okay, fine what's the game?" Castiel conceded taking a small bite of the pie with the fork that had been stuck into the top and making a pleased sound at the back of his throat because damn, it really was good pie.

"Okay, I ask you a question and then you ask me a question." Dean explained.

"Do we answer them?"

The other man shrugged a bit, reaching out a finger to softly touch the cuff of Castiel's sweater. "It's up to you, if you answer then you can't lie. You have to tell the truth, but the game is you always have to finish with a question. Whoever doesn't or gives up loses. Okay, are you ready?"

"Yea," Castiel said quickly, swallowing the last bite of his pie and even though he was wishing that there had been more because he was still kinda hungry he also really really wanted to win whatever it was that Dean was going to give him. His mind raced with what it could be, all kinds of fantastical and impossible things that made his heart leap into his throat in terrified anticipation and made him lick his lips unconsciously.

Dean smirked at him, rolling his eyes a bit and nudging his knee against Castiel's. "Your question?"

"Oh shit," Castiel muttered, running an agitated hand through his hair. "Did I just fucking lose already?"

"No," the other man laughed, smiling widely at how flustered Castiel was. Well, at least one of them was enjoying his brainlessness. "I'll give you that one since you're learning how to play. We'll start over, are you ready now?"

"Uh...yes," Castiel stated firmly, adjusting himself on the bench so that both of his legs were crossed on the wood between him and the other man. He tried very hard to focus on thinking of a good question instead of how his knees were now pressing into Dean's thigh. "Where did you learn this game?"

"From this chick at another hospital, long time ago; she was really cool." Dean answered, thrumming his fingers softly against his thigh for a second. "Umm...what's your middle name?"

"Well, its not fucking Jeremiah." Castiel muttered bitterly, remembering how Meg had called him that earlier. She knew his middle name, he had told her a million times what it was and she had shown off his horribly embarrassing student ID picture enough that it should be ingrained in her memory like her middle name was for him. It was Gwendolyn by the way.

"I feel like there's a story there," Dean mused teasingly.

"It's Alexander. Like the great, my mom was a bit of a history buff, it saved my dad a lot of research I don't know how many times. What's yours?"

"So your initials are C.A.S., like your name Cas. That's a cute trick, wish my parents had done something like that. Mine's boring, it's just Henry after my granddad." Dean explained with a shrug, propping one arm up on the back of the bench and stretching the other out to his side.

Castiel's eyes followed the movement, his mouth going dry when Dean's shirt pulled tight across his chest and he had to look down at his hands for a second so that he could compose himself. Maybe he should just give up on trying to get whatever it was that Dean had for him, he wasn't going to win the game and spending time alone with the other man was just making it harder to deal with this crush or whatever it was that was going on with him.

"Do you think I'm gross looking?" Dean asked suddenly. Castiel's eyes shot back up to the other man's face and found the Dean doing that nervous, contemplative lip biting that was going to make his head explode, he was pretty sure of it.

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head hard enough that his glasses rattled on his face a bit causing Dean to smile shyly and look down at his arms, at the scars that were on his arms. "I think you look..."

Fuck, amazing? That sounded like the kind of compliment that you gave a girl who had just spent a lot of money on a dress for a date with you. Like a prom compliment. Gorgeous? Dean wasn't a model, but he could be; fully, but there was no way in hell that he could say that and still hold on to the thin thread of himself that wasn't a complete stranger. So he settled for something stupid, something that made Dean sound like Cas thought he was a piece of pie.

"Awesome." Castiel finished lamely, his shoulders slumping inwards like he was preparing for the blows or the yelling that he knew was about to come. You just didn't tell another guy that you thought they were awesome looking and walk away unscathed, it just didn't happen. "Why do you ask?"

Dean was blushing for real now, all the way to the tips of his ears and he wasn't looking at Castiel. This was bad, he should just make an excuse and leave because this was when things got weird and really he had thought he would have longer, but his stupid mouth had decided to ruin any chance of a friendship with Dean in about fifteen seconds. He should staple his lips together or take a vow of silence or something, anything that might give him a chance to actually think before he spoke every once in a while.

"You just um...you keep looking at my scars and I thought they might be grossing you out," Dean explained softly, staring down at his hands in his lap with a little smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I just know you have a sensitive stomach and...do you really think that, Cas?"

This was his out, he couldn't lie or anything, but he could choose not to answer. And like the fucking coward that he was, that's what Castiel did. "Why did you ask me here and not anyone else, Dean?"

"Because I wanted to get to know more about you, you seem like a really nice guy." The other patient said, rubbing a hand over his jaw which was smoothly shaven now that Castiel was looking at the way Dean's neck curved down to his shoulders. Distracting fucking shoulders. "Don't you think this is a good way to get to know someone?"

"Yea, its a really good game," Cas answered, swallowing hard and rubbing at one of his eyes that was itching underneath his glasses. "So um...do you live in Brooklyn? I'm over in DUMBO."

"Oh, I'm in Bushwick." Dean said excitedly, slapping lightly at Castiel's knee. "That's not very far and I think Charlie said the halfway house that she's trying to get in to is in Bedford so we'd all be kind of close to each other if she gets in. We should all hang out or something outside of here, what do you think?"

"Bushwick? I don't really go to Bushwick," Castiel started softly, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his thighs and hoping that it would stop soon before it spread to his face and his back and he had to take another shower just to be able to try to sleep later. Plus it would be gross and the fact that his mom's old, untouched art studio was in Bushwick should not fucking freak him out so much. "But um...maybe something in Williamsburg or like um...Coney Island or something. That would be cool right? Once the semester is over. What would you want to do?"

Dean was staring at him with a silly grin on his face and he reached out a hand absently towards Castiel's face, stopping once he realized was he was doing and biting his lip self-consciously.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I didn't hear a word of that, its just...well you have an eyelash on your...here be still." Dean leaned in as he spoke, steadying himself as he did so with one hand settled firmly on Castiel's knee.

Castiel couldn't decide which was worse, the way that his heart sped up when he felt the firm, sure grip that the other man had on his leg as he leaned some of his weight onto Castiel's knee or the way he couldn't seem to remember how to breathe for the couple of seconds that he felt Dean's fingers brushing against his cheekbones, bumping softly and carefully into his glasses before the other man sat back, smiling with his hand outstretched still to show Cas the precariously balanced eyelash that was sitting on his index finger. They were both bad, this was very very bad. Christ on a cross he didn't think he had ever been more turned on in his life, not even by Meg.

"Make a wish, Cas." Dean said quietly, keeping his breaths shallow so that he wouldn't blow the eyelash off his fingertip on accident.

He had wanted to be close enough to count the freckles on the other man's face, but even though he was now numbers and all of those upper level accounting classes that he had slaved over seemed to have completely fucking abandoned him. Castiel couldn't take his eyes off of Dean's, not until he shut them at least and wished that it could always be this easy to interact with someone; that this whatever with Dean could be something real and reciprocated and uncomplicated by things like family and his fucked up head.

And then he blew out a puff of air and when he opened his eyes again the eyelash was gone and Dean was still staring at him, at his lips that Castiel had pursed together to blow the fallen lash off of the other man's finger to be more exact. He glanced down at his lap and cursed his stupid, uncontrollable fucking body for making him hard right now. Cas drew in a shaky breath and tried to will away his erection, but it just throbbed harder in the tight confines of his jeans when Dean's hand didn't move off of his knee immediately, it just fucking stayed there like Dean actually wanted to touch him. He was reading entirely too much into all of this.

"So um...is it your turn or mine?" Dean asked lowly, tugging on the front of his shirt when he finally sat back and took his hand off of Cas's knee.

The spot where it had been felt warm and tingly and like it wasn't really attached to him anymore, it felt like his shoulder had felt when Dean's fingers had settled on it unconsciously during movie night the day before. Just like then, he knew that the other man couldn't possibly know what it was doing to him to just be touched by another person who he apparently liked much more than he should. Shitshitshit.

"I have no idea," Castiel croaked out, clearing his throat when his voice broke embarrassingly just a little as he spoke. "So...who wins?"

"No one, I guess." Dean replied with a sheepish shrug, fuck why was he still blushing and biting his lip and looking adorable? Cas just wanted to die already because his life really was so much more complicated than he had thought it was. "I'm sorry, I just got a bit distracted by um...the eyelash and all. It just...fuck I'm such a loser."

"Well if no one wins, then we're both losers." He said softly, fighting the urge he had to do something drastic so that Dean would start smiling that big, dazzling smile again. "Sucks though, I really wanted whatever it was you had for me."

"Dude, I know and I really wanted that sweater," Dean laughed, reaching out to touch Castiel's cardigan again this time on a spot that was closer to his neck. Close enough that Castiel could feel the heat from Dean's skin against his own and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from leaning into it so that he could feel the other man's skin against his again. "It looks really comfy and it's soft. I like the color a lot."

"You can still have it if you want," Cas offered suddenly, surprising even himself with how easily the words slipped out of his mouth, but it did the trick of making Dean smile wider; he had such great fucking lips.

"No, no," Dean said quickly, his eyes widening in surprise when Castiel started tugging it off of his arms with movements that he hoped didn't look too eager to please. "I wouldn't feel right taking it since I didn't win the game."

"Well..." Castiel said, folding his stripped cardigan over in half in his lap and resting his hands lightly on top as he thought about what Dean could give him to make the exchange fair. "Um...give me whatever it was you had for me and we'll call it even."

"Mine's stupid, Cas."

"Well I still want it," he said firmly, glancing meaningfully down at his sweater and raising an eyebrow at Dean in a way that almost felt like flirting. Cas was really going to have to keep that in check, the other man was making this too easy; it almost felt like he was taking advantage of Dean and that made his stomach clench in disgust at himself. "Do we have a deal or what?"

Dean looked down at the sweater, reached out to touch it again his fingers so maddeningly close to Castiel's that he wanted to cry before the other man looked at Castiel again and licked his lips nervously. "Okay, but shut your eyes."

"Why?" Castiel asked, holding the sweater out to Dean who took it like it was the Shroud of Turin or some other holy relic that he was honored to have. "What are you going to do?"

"I just...I'm going to give you your present and I want you to close your eyes and count to um...fifty before you look at it okay?" Dean asked, reaching one of his hands behind himself again towards the back pockets of his jeans before stopping and looking at Castiel pleadingly until he nodded and shut his eyes.

"Like this?"

"Just like that, Cas. Now don't open your eyes, fifty. Don't skip any numbers or anything."

Castiel smirked to himself because that had been exactly his plan, but kept his eyes shut even when he felt Dean's thigh move away from his knees on the bench between them. "So I can count really fast then?"

"You would you little fucking shit," Dean muttered and Castiel would've been worried if he hadn't been able to hear the smile in the other man's voice when he said it. "Just count, Cas."

"Onetwothreefourfive," Castiel started, counting softly under his breath as quickly as he could until he reached fifty and opened his eyes.

Dean was gone. When Castiel looked around himself he saw no trace of the other man and he couldn't stop himself from feeling slightly disappointed about Dean ditching him, but when he started to drop his gaze down to look down at his fingers that had twisted themselves into knots as he counted he saw the paper sitting in the spot that Dean had just been occupying. It was a folded white sheet, pressed into half it's normal size with almost immaculate precision and when Castiel reached out to pick it up, his hand was shaking so hard that he had to steady it with the other one just so he wouldn't accidentally bend the paper before he got to see what it was.

He almost fell off the bench when he did finally get his hands back under control long enough to flip the page open and that was only because Cas thought he was going to black out since there was suddenly no air in any area of the hospital, maybe inside those oxygen canisters, but since he didn't have one then he was going to die. Castiel was going to die and this was what he had wanted so why was he freaking out over the feeling of clutching, tearing narrowness that always accompanied his panic attacks?

Cas felt like his vision had shrunken to a tight, wind savaged tunnel that was steadily growing smaller and smaller until he managed to suck in a deep breath that made the tunnel expand suddenly into terrifying high definition color. His eyes scanned over the paper, to the words written at the top of the page and the signature scrawled messily at the bottom; they spent an inordinately long time studying the image centered in the middle of the page.

Traveling over the swooping, thick pencil lines that made up the frames of the glasses that matched his own, forced into 3-D perspective on the flat surface of the page; widening at the detailed stippled reflection on the lenses and the faint barely there shadow that lay underneath as if a light was shining mostly above the unfolded heavy, dark framed spectacles.

At the top of the page was a single sentence, "Sorry I didn't sign the first one." At the bottom, there it was; the D.W. that he had thought he had seen that morning in Missouri's office on the portrait that had been done of the therapist. The two letters that had to be a joke because even though the drawing was done in the same style as the one that he already had and the one that the doctor had, it couldn't possibly have actually been done by Dean. It was the only way to explain it and he felt so so stupid for allowing himself to be comfortable around Dean, enough to let his guard down and be carefree and happy for probably the first time in...longer than he could remember.

This was all a big joke, it had to be. And even though Castiel felt like crying and raging and hunting Dean down so that he could demand his sweater back, another part of him decided that he deserved this. Because the only thing he deserved was to be miserable, he was a horrible friend and a horrible son and just like this fucking drawing, his life was a big fucking joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I do this? Ugh. I'm sorry, okay. I'm going to write the next chapter as soon as possible so you know I'm not a sadistic angst freak. I promise, just breathe; it'll be okay.


	14. Chapter 14

A few tears did manage to slip out, the self-hatred that he had for himself just being too overwhelming for them not to spill hot and heavy over his cheeks and onto the paper that was rattling softly in his trembling hands before he tossed it back down where Dean had been sitting and wiped agitatedly at his face. This was a mean joke, meaner than any April fool's joke that Gabriel had ever played on him and so much meaner than anything he had ever called himself-stupid, worthless, a failure, invisible, forgotten.

It just didn't make any sense, either Dean was a very very good actor who got off on making people fall all over themselves for him, just like Balthazar, or literally everyone he had thought he was getting along with on the ward had been playing a cruel joke on him since he had first stepped foot into the hospital. Charlie and Becky and everyone had just been conspiring to make him look foolish and how he reacted to Dean must have been obvious since that first tour otherwise how could he explain the first drawing?

The one in Missouri's office was still a mystery, but it was probably done by the actual person 'M.W.' and his new friends had gotten them to draw things that they could pass off as being from a secret admirer, fuck it probably _was_ creepy, sour-faced Martin who had done them after all. He deserved this though, for making Dean uncomfortable just like he had Alfie and for being mean to Charlie and for being so envious of his siblings' success and for not crying at his mom's funeral. He was a terrible person who deserved to have terrible things happen to him and dying was too merciful for someone like him.

That's why, even though he was trying to be mad at the people he should be mad at (Charlie, Becky...Dean), he couldn't seem to muster up any other emotions besides embarrassment and hopelessness. He felt so very foolish for letting himself think that maybe Dean could actually like him back, that maybe he wasn't so inept and beaten down by life itself and someone could see that all he wanted was to be wanted by someone in return. And god, he had just been to the point where if someone as great as the other man wanted him, then it didn't even matter that Dean was a boy and not a girl at all.

That was a lie, it still mattered.

But maybe while he was here in the hospital away from his family and friends that would judge him for it, he could have seen himself being happy indulging in Dean's company. In reveling in the soft smiles and the quick laughter of the handsome patient who would obviously never ever in a million years want him, just like Meg. It didn't have to mean anything, because it didn't mean anything with Meg and he had been dealing with that up until now, but it would've made getting through this more bearable. But now what did he have? Nothing, no friends and no family and no one who thought that he was anything.

Cas let out a broken, unintended sob and buried his face in his hands to muffle the noise. He didn't want Dean or Charlie hearing how miserable he was over their joke, they were probably laughing at him right now and Gabe had always told him not to give bullies the satisfaction of knowing they had gotten to him. But fucking shit, they had gotten to him. He had thought that it was Crowley and Dick or Ruby and Lilith that he had to watch out for; he thought by now he would know when someone was just using him, but well wasn't there some saying about it always being the quiet ones or something?

The tears raced then, when his face was hidden and no one could see him crying like a little boy who had fallen down and skinned his knee. Only these weren't crocodile tears meant to get consoling kisses and murmured platitudes from his mom or dad, they fucking hurt. Like acid burning that ran in stinging rivulets down his chin until they dripped onto the denim of his jeans and he pulled his knees up to his chest because it felt like he was going to collapse into himself from how much this hurt.

He just wanted this whole hospital mistake to be over with, so he could go home and bury himself in homework again. While away the rest of his days alone with his numbers and his books and his miserable little existence; if he got back on the medication then he could deal with it, the emptiness. Because if this was what having feelings again meant then he hadn't been missing much and he was more than happy to go back to being numb and alone as long as his heart didn't feel like it had been ripped out and stomped on by every person who might mean something to him.

 _I won't kill myself,_ he promised. God? Cas didn't know, just whoever it was that might be watching over him. _If you make this stop, I will just go on. Like I was before, I'll be useful and insignificant and content with being nothing. Just make this stop, please make this stop._

"Well, balls. What's wrong with you?"

Castiel looked up, squinting through the tear-streaked lenses of his glasses at Bobby who was standing in front of the bench with his hands on his hips. He sniffled and wiped at his nose, not remembering that his cardigan had traveled off with someone who he didn't want to think about until he felt the mucus against his forearm and grimaced apologetically at the older man for being so gross. He knew the exact instant that the nurse realized that he had been crying because Bobby cursed under his breath again and made to plop down next to him on the bench, right on top of the drawing that Cas knew he shouldn't give a shit about.

So why did he?

"Wait," he forced out, his throat feeling raw and abused even though he hadn't been sobbing, had in fact been trying desperately not to make any noise at all while he cried. "Let me get that first."

Cas picked up the drawing of his glasses, his stomach clenching guiltily when he saw that the tears he had shed on the page had caused smeared discolorations on the sentence that Dean had written at the top of the page. He set his knees back down on the bench and settled the drawing in his lap, tracing over the lines as Bobby sat down gingerly beside him and took off the trucker hat that he was wearing.

"So what's wrong with you, kid?" The nurse asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair before he rooted around in the pocket of his over shirt and produced a package of Kleenex that he offered Castiel.

"Nothing," he mumbled, taking two Kleenex; using one to clean his glasses and the other to surreptitiously wipe the last of the tears off of his face.

Bobby sighed and leaned back on the bench, settling his hat back onto his head and stretching out his legs in front of him. "Don't lie to me, Castiel. I've already dealt with a food fight, three almost breakdowns, and two patients who don't know how to keep their hands to themselves. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm a just a little bit grumpy; so you can talk to me if you want, but don't insult my intelligence. You're obviously upset about something, might as well tell me because Jim will just preach at you and Hester with give you meds to put you to sleep just so she doesn't have to deal with you."

Castiel remained silent, how was he supposed to talk about this? He never had before, not with his family or his friends or anyone because he didn't know half the time what _this_ was. So he had liked Dean, like more than just as a friend and he had gotten his hopes up, gotten lost in his head like he used to do when he was messing around on the piano and something great ended up coming out on accident.

Maybe he had hoped that Dean would save him, from himself and from being invisible, but if the scars on the other man's arms were anything to go by then Dean couldn't even save himself let alone anyone else. That probably should have been his first tip off that something wasn't right about this whole situation. No one with that much damage of their own could possibly be as nice as Dean had seemed to be.

"It got something to do with this?" Bobby asked, tapping his finger on the drawing that Castiel hadn't even realized he was staring at until the older man's finger appeared over the word 'Sorry'.

He glanced up at the nurse who was watching him with a calculating expression on his face and shrugged before dropping his eyes back to the drawing. Fuck, he should have shaken his head.

"Y'know," Bobby started, clearing his throat in a meaningful kind of way causing Castiel to look up at the older man. "I know Dean can come across as a bit of a jackass sometimes, but his heart's in the right place."

"I'm not upset about Dean," Castiel lied, shifting his feet down to the floor and briskly folding the drawing up neatly along the crease that had already been put into the paper.

He should want to rip it up, but he didn't because someone had spent time on it and his mom had taught him to respect art in all its forms. So he was going to keep it at least long enough to ask Martin if he wanted it back, if he didn't well, he didn't know what he would do with it, but Cas couldn't keep it for himself now. He had enough possessions with painful memories attached to them; he didn't need to be a hoarder on top of depressed too.

"Okay then," the nurse said, putting his hands on his knees and making like he was about to get to his feet. "Well, if you decide to stop lying to me I'll be here tomorrow after lunch for my shift. Or y'know your therapist, she's the expert."

"And if I am upset about Dean?" Castiel asked desperately, looking down at the paper that crinkled alarmingly in his hands as they clenched convulsively in his lap. "What in the hell do you suggest I do about it?"

"If you had asked me the first time that he was here," Bobby started, smiling down at his hands as he remembered his early encounters with Dean, when the teen ward had been under construction and the then fifteen year old's brashness had gotten on his damn nerves. "I would've said pop him one in the mouth and then you'd be square, but now...talk to him. If he's coming on too strong, then I'm sure the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable, so he'll stop. Just tell him."

Castiel could feel the hysterical laughter burbling up in his chest in response to the older man's advice. He was pretty sure that the whole point of Dean's cruel joke was to make him uncomfortable, but Cas managed to tamp it down by biting on his lip and nodding his thanks for Bobby's completely unhelpful words of wisdom.

"Okay?' Bobby asked, slapping Castiel lightly on the back before climbing stiffly to his feet with a soft groan. "Damn I'm getting old. Come on, off to bed with you."

He followed the older man towards the nurse's station, mostly because he had absolutely no desire to walk past Dean and Charlie's room again, only to be stopped by Ellen who shoved one of the daily menus brusquely across the counter towards him with a look that brought to mind every disapproving look his mom had ever given him when he had been too busy playing the keyboard with his headphones on to clean his room or take out the trash. So he blindly circled a couple of things on the list and gave it back to her right as Jim and Hester key carded their way through the door with sleepy sounding greetings towards the other two nurses.

"Why is he still up?" Hester asked, jutting her chin at Castiel like he wasn't right there and she couldn't just ask him herself.

"Kid's having a rough night," Bobby explained, not looking up from the clipboard that he was scratching notes on. "Fili and Kili are still up down there too, Crowley's ticked that he's on an arms length restriction now, Becky again. But I think that's about it as far as your night owls go."

"So four or five?" Jim sighed, setting down a battered backpack behind the desk and looking over Bobby's shoulder at the clipboard. "Four."

"Yep and Cas is right off to bed, aren't you boy?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

Castiel nodded and started trailing down the hallway, glancing into Crowley's room as he passed to see the other man sitting angrily on the floor right inside his bedroom door. When he saw Cas looking at him he smiled, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

"I'm not going to sleep until I talk to my doctor!" Crowley hollered, angling his face towards the nurse's station. "This is utter bollocks! You cannot deny a man his right to fornicate!"

He shook his head and walked faster towards his bedroom, ducking inside just as he heard Hester's snappish voice reprimanding the other man, telling him that he had already talked to his doctor and this was what Missouri wanted so he just needed to be quiet already. Cas wondered who else was up right now, Kili and Fili? They sounded like familiar names, but he wasn't sure from where so he just moved to pick up his GRE study guide instead, sliding the new drawing in with the first one before settling down on his bed and flipping the heavy book open to a random page.

If he studied then he could start building back up the wall that he hadn't even realized was compromised until he had let the strangers in this hospital slip past his defenses. Cas couldn't let it happen again, wouldn't and he didn't plan on talking to Dean because he was pretty sure it would end with his crying again. So that left him with his family once he got out, now that he had ruined things with Meg who was bound to tell his roommate about his awkward pseudo-confession of love, his family that was too busy and too important to worry about him pretty much ever; they wouldn't ask about why he was so quiet now, why he didn't have a girlfriend because they never had asked before. They wouldn't ask if his heart was still broken, because he didn't plan on telling them that it ever had been in the first place.

He knew it was a dream this time, because his mom was there and while he was lucid enough to enjoy spending time with her, he couldn't control much else going on around him.

It was a sort of memory, one from after they knew that she was sick and after she had shaved off all of her grey-streaked blonde hair to donate it to Locks of Love, saying that she might as well since it was going to get all brittle and fall out anyway from the chemotherapy. Anna had wanted to shave her head too in solidarity, but her dance instructor had threatened to take the lead in the fall ballet pageant away from her if she did and that had been enough to end that little heartfelt gesture.

She was humming an old Brue Springsteen song under her breath as she made breakfast, they had both always been the early risers in the family and it made for a lot of one on one time for him and his mom. It gave her plenty of time to gently berate him for comparing himself to his siblings all the time, saying that he wasn't Michael or Gabriel and they had different talents than he did so he shouldn't force something that wasn't there.

"That goes for that girl too," His mom warned, sliding chocolate chip pancakes in front of him. "She's just using you, dear. That's why she lets you pay for things all the time and did you know she put your brother down as a reference for a job? Michael was fit to burst."

This hadn't been part of the original memory, but the reference part was true.

"Why would Meg do that?" Castiel asked, digging into the pancakes that were as good in his dream as he remembered, just the right about of melty chocolate that didn't overwhelm him with sweetness. "She gets bored listening to me talk about accounting; never in a million years would she want to work for a hedge fund."

He smiled at the outlandish neon green headscarf that she was wearing, it had been her favorite for a reason that none of them could understand. This was a good dream, after the hell his day had been he deserved to have a good dream.

"Either way, you're much better off now," His mom mused setting a third plate at the table with them, causing Castiel to frown at the extra chocolately pancakes. His dad liked plain pancakes and the writer was the only one likely to be up this early as well. "Such a nice boy and sweet. So sweet, Castiel. Really, you could do much worse."

"What the hell are you talking about, mom?" Cas mumbled out around a mouth full of breakfast food, jumping in the mismatched wooden chair that he was sitting in at in his parent's kitchen in SoHo when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders and chest. Lips pressed softly into his hair as he tried to turn his head to look at who was behind him.

"You're right, Mrs. Shurley." Dean said, grinning as he took the empty seat and started digging into the obnoxious looking pancakes that must have been his. "Meg was so much worse.'

"Mom, what the fuck is he doing here?" Castiel asked, sounding slightly panicked when his stomach twisted at the sight of the other man, threatening to make him lose his subconscious pancakes.

"He's here because you want him here, sweetie." Amelia Shurley said off-handedly, patting Dean's arm affectionately when the other man just grinned at her, cheeks puffed out and full of food.

"I don't want him here!" he exclaimed, pushing back from the table hard enough that his chair clattered over behind him onto the wooden floor. "He-he, you don't know what he did! Mom, he is not a nice person."

"Sure I am, Cas." Dean argued, dipping a tea bag into a mug of hot water before pushing it towards Castiel. "I'm pretty much the nicest person you've ever met, plus you think I'm really handsome."

"I do not!"

"Uh, yea you do," the other man scoffed, rolling his eyes at Castiel's mom who was just smirking back and forth at the two of them like they were the cutest things in the world. "I'm in your head, Cas. _You_ made me up, _you_ put me here, and _you_ think I have a great butt."

"If I made you up, well then I can make you leave," Cas said triumphantly, pointing a stern finger at the other man and shutting his eyes hard, willing Dean out of his head and out of his memory/dream with his mom.

"Isn't he cute when he does that?" his mom said, causing her son to open his eyes to see the older woman nudging Dean in the side. "He used to make that same scrunched up face when he played the piano. Oooh, wait I have pictures, don't go anywhere!"

His mom dashed away from the table, headscarf flapping around her shoulders as she raced out of the room much faster than a woman with stomach cancer could have realistically done if this wasn't a dream.

"Mom, no!" Castiel pleaded, giving Dean a dirty look before he picked up his chair and plopped back down in it, folding his arms on the table to bury his face there with a groan. "This isn't fair, this is my dream and you shouldn't be here."

"Then why am I here, Cas?" Dean asked and Castiel felt the lukewarm tea mug nudging at his fingertips, but didn't look up.

"Because you ruined my fucking day with your spiteful fucking joke and I was mad when I went to sleep."

"No, you weren't mad when you went to sleep," he heard the other man reply softly and even though he didn't want to, he peeked out of the space between his arms to see Dean staring at his half eaten pancakes with a miserable expression on his face. "You were sad, really sad, Cas. I'm sorry, really. I never meant to make you sad."

"Liar," Castiel muttered half-heartedly. "I really hate you, y'know?"

Dean smirked sadly, glancing up to meet his eyes in the small space where Castiel was peeking out. Only in a dream would he know exactly where to look. "No you don't, Cas. I'm in your head remember? You don't hate me at all. You lo—

"Rise and shine!" Ash yelled into his room, causing Castiel's eyes to fly open and for him to startle out of the puddle of drool that had formed on his study guide where he had fallen asleep on it.

He knew he had been dreaming, could remember a vague image of a green scarf and the taste of chocolate, but the rest was slipping away from him; like water carried in someone's cupped hands, the more careful you are not to lose any of it the faster it seems to disappear between the cracks and crevices of your fingers. There had been something about pictures, embarrassing ones?

Ones of him wearing one of Anna's dress up dresses and a plastic tiara as he played that tale as old as time teapot song from _Beauty and the Beast_ for his sister so that she could practice her dancing, his face scrunched up in concentration while his mom had laughed and sung the words. He had probably been about eight, Anna four almost five in her tiny tiny tutu. Why had he been dreaming about that? His mom had been threatening to show those pictures to a girl if he ever brought one home, along with the one of him and Gabe and Mike all in the bathtub together; Gabe had been eating soap, Mike had looked thoroughly disgusted with the whole setup, and Castiel had probably been about two, newly adopted and inexplicably bald.

"Dude, Charlie's threatening to eat your food," Ash warned glancing down the hallway towards the rec room and frowning. "She says she wants waffles instead of cereal and apparently you're the only one of us in a wafflely mood."

"Charlie can go fuck herself," Castiel muttered, side-eyeing the way that Ash frowned in confusion at his pronouncement. "I'm done with her, Ash. Becky and Dean too, I just want to be left alone from now on so you can tell them all to just stop trying to 'help' me."

"Well shit," the other patient exclaimed, throwing his arms out to his sides in frustration and taking a step into Castiel's room. "I know I was fucking out of it for most of the day yesterday, my fault I realize that, but what did I miss? I thought things with you and Dean were good, he was going to ask you on a date or something."

"So you knew about all of this?" he asked angrily, closing the drawer on his dresser that he had opened to look for some new clothes to wear with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

"Unless you're breakfast," Rufus snapped, sitting up suddenly in his bed with an agitated growl at the two younger men. "And you're not because neither one of you fucktards look like a bowl of grits to me, then take your little heart to heart out of here. Go on now! Jesus, I miss when my roommate was a psychopath, at least Alastair was quiet."

Ash waved Castiel out of the room, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt that he had been wearing since meeting Dean the night before once he got close enough and dragging him down the hall towards the nurse's station.

"Cas, I knew he was going to ask you to meet him and he was all nervous about it. Asked for my advice about it, y'know since I'm so good with the ladies and stuff and Charlie has like worse anxiety about that that shit than he does. Plus Becky's advice when it comes to that sort of thing is utter crap, girl thinks a person doesn't really like you unless you go down on them or whatever. Now, I like a blow job, Cas, a much as the next guy, but that girl's mouth has been in places I don't even want to think about. Unholy places."

Castiel put up his hand to stop Ash, apparently spending most of the day before zonked out of his mind had left the other patient full of energy because he was talking almost too fast to understand, but Cas got the just of it. Ash had been part of the whole joke that Dean and Charlie had played on him, maybe unknowingly because Ash was always a bit spaced out anyway, but he had been pulled into all of this too and now just looking at him was making Cas want to cry again.

"That's enough," he said, tugging on the front of his shirt to try to straighten out the even more wrinkles that he had put into it by sleeping in it. "I think I get it. I'm sorry they dragged you into this, Ash, but its done. I'm not here to make friends, I'm here because...well, I'm here and I need to work on getting out and getting my life back together. I don't have time for all of the silly fucking games they like to play with people's feelings, so if you'll tell Charlie and Dean and Becky that I want them to leave me alone, I'd really appreciate it."

"Dude, are you serious?" Ash asked, fidgeting with the Velcro on his leather motorcycle gloves agitatedly. "I didn't think you would be like this. I thought that Dean would y'know...that you would _get_ him. We all kind of did."

"Oh I get him alright," Castiel sighed, ignoring the prickling behind his eyes when the thought passed through his head that maybe part of the problem was that he had been hoping that Dean would get him too, because it kind of had already felt like the man understood the things he was always trying to say, but couldn't get across in a language that anyone else spoke. He had thought that Dean spoke his language; like Anna spoke their secret, made up language when they were kids. "I understand exactly what kind of person Dean is now and I'm tired of being made fun of all the time by people like him so just tell him for me okay?"

"Cas, I really think you should talk to him," Ash objected, following him when he started towards the cafeteria. All he had eaten yesterday was a breakfast burrito and a burger and the most thoughtful pie he had ever had ever, so he was pretty ready for waffles if that's what was waiting for him. "Talk to Charlie at least, bro. She's better at like, words and stuff than I am. You shouldn't stop being his friend, it would just...be bad. Fuck, talk to Charlie!"

"If I talk to her will you mellow the hell out?" Castiel asked, stopping in the doorway of the cafeteria when Jo paused in her passing out of cafeteria trays to give him a strange look.

He glanced nervously around the room to see Charlie already sitting at a table with Becky, the two girls perking up in their seats when they noticed him and Ash and waving at the two of them eagerly. No Dean, just like yesterday morning, so maybe he was with Missouri again. Maybe it would give him a chance to tell Charlie that he knew about her whole unfunny, twisted joke before he went to sit at the same table with Pam who was all alone across the cafeteria. The older woman seemed to like talking to herself more than anyone else so he could probably get away with not looking like a jerk if he didn't speak to her.

"I just need my meds, dude." Ash drawled cracking his knuckles and moving towards their usual table. "Yesterday fucked me up, no more giving pills away, I don't care how hot Ruby is."

Castiel reluctantly followed behind Ash, taking his usual seat across from Charlie and accepting his tray from Jo when she offered it to him over his shoulder. The redhead was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement, smiling at him widely and looking confusedly at the clothes that he was wearing for a second before shrugging.

"So?" she asked, like it was nothing. Like he shouldn't care that she had completely taken advantage of his confusing feelings about Dean and made him into the butt of her joke.

"So, what?" Cas snapped, he could feel himself shaking. From anger at her pretending like nothing was wrong and looking so happy or from the nervousness he felt about confronting her he wasn't exactly sure, probably both.

He didn't handle confrontation very well, that's why he had always been content to hide behind Gabe and his brother's friends when someone had tried to pick on him. Maybe it was why he was so sickeningly sad about all of this, because it was so familiar and so routine that he was surprised that he had let himself be sucked into another prank. In high school, during the two years that spanned between Gabriel graduating and Castiel leaving the crumbling old brick public school too, the pranks and jokes and teasing had been endless.

The only thing that had helped him through it then was the crappy little garage band he played the keyboard in, but his senior year he had become so obsessed with the SAT that even that had stopped being an outlet when his friend's replaced him with someone who could actually make it to practices. And by the middle of freshman year in college, the instrument had become more of a place to hang clothes than anything that he could use to express the anger and loneliness he felt almost constantly when another person recognized him for being Carver Edlund's son or Gabriel and Michael Shurley's little brother. In a couple more years, he would be in the middle of his older brothers and Anna, squashed into nothingness by his own mediocrity for the rest of his life and he didn't think that he deserved to be punished any more by other people than life was already punishing him.

"Sooooo how did last night go?" Charlie asked rolling her eyes exaggeratedly and stabbing viciously at her bowl of Cheerios.

"I'm sure you already know," he replied emotionlessly, the only way he would get through this would be by forcing himself to be numb. Even though his chest was already aching from just thinking about Dean and he was already sweating because this was really the last thing he wanted to be talking about.

"Okay, yea." The girl agreed, smiling at him widely. "I know Dean's side of it, but I want to hear your side. Quick before he gets back and we have to deal with you two eye fucking all over the table in front of us."

Castiel winced, immediately hating himself even more for doing so. "There won't be any eye fucking Charlie and I'm going to switch tables before Dean gets here. I don't want be around you or him anymore."

"What? Why?" Charlie asked, dropping her spoon into her bowl with a loud clattering sound as she frowned worriedly at him. "Did you change your mind? What happened?"

"I just don't think it's funny to play with another person's feelings, Charlie." Castiel explained trying to be as calm as he possibly could, even though his hands were shaking when he went to pick up his tray so that he could get away from the girl before he burst into tears or fainted or threw up everywhere. "And what you and Dean did to me...it was wrong. I was ready...fuck it you wouldn't understand, Charlie."

"Jesus Christ, Cas. Try me," Charlie pleaded, slapping her hand down on the edge of his tray so that he couldn't pick it up unless he fought against her and dammnit, were all girls this strong? "I mean I know you liked that girl, but really?"

"Charlie, I've only ever liked girls okay?" Castiel forced out through gritted teeth, glancing over to see Becky and Ash trying very desperately to seem like they weren't eavesdropping even though they obviously were. He lowered his voice anyway, "Except for Dean...you just, fuck. You don't know what it's like to meet someone who makes you wish that you were braver. But it was all a joke and you took that part of me that wanted to be brave and made me feel like shit. I should be used to it by now, but I thought since this was a hospital maybe people would understand. Turns out being crazy does not mean you are above being a jerk, now I'd like for you to leave me alone. You and Dean, just leave me alone."

"What was a joke, Cas?!" Charlie exclaimed, grabbing onto his tray harder when he stood up and tried to pull it out of her hand. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit," he said, abandoning his tray even though he was hungry because the other girl was starting to make a scene and his face was already burning hot enough with embarrassment as it was. Cas needed to leave before Dean got here to see him so upset, he would cry; there wouldn't be any way of getting around it if the other man was there to witness his humiliation. "All of it was a joke; the drawings, the meeting, Dean liking me. I know it was Charlie, so just stop lying already."

Cas spun on his heel and started towards the hallway, intending to shut himself into the nearest room he found that had a lock so that he could really and truly be alone. So far none of the doors had locks, but maybe there was a panic room or something where Jo and Garth would make sure no one bothered him, somewhere where he could break down in peace without it being a spectacle for the rest of the patients.

"No, Cas!" Charlie called, rushing behind him and catching his arm roughly, so much rougher than when she had been asking the night before if he was still meeting Dean. When he faced her, her eyes were full of confusion and concern and so much sincerity that he stopped in front of the cafeteria doors, panting from his unspent emotions because he hadn't been running, that would've just attracted even more attention to himself. "None of it was a joke. I promise, Dean does like you. I'm not lying."

"How can I believe you, Charlie?" he asked, cursing himself for the hope that laced his voice. God, this second time was going to hurt worse than the first, he would die from it for sure, so why was he even grabbing desperately onto the small spark of trust that he still held for the other girl. "I mean, look at him and look at me. Why would he ever like me?"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging slightly before grabbing onto his arm harder when he tried to walk away again. He had known she was fucking with him. "I mean, I don't know because I don't do the whole liking guys thing. You're nice, but you're nice to me in a friend way. To Dean...you're nice in a different way, we can all see it. And he likes you, Cas, I promise. He _like_ -likes you."

What is this, the fifth grade?

"Prove it." He said tersely.

"What do you want me to do? Kiss you on his behalf? I don't have any proof, Cas. Dean is super duper gay, if you had come to LGBTQ yesterday then you would've seen him there. I don't know what else I can do," She explained desperately.

"I didn't go because I'm not gay, Charlie." Castiel said defensively, shaking his head more at himself than Charlie because if he liked Dean and his heart was speeding up at the thought of Dean maybe, potentially liking him for real then what did that make him? "And what about the drawings? Missouri has one in her office signed M.W. Last time I checked it's pretty hard to confuse an M with a D."

"Okay, that." Charlie started, pointing at him knowingly before her face fell again and she dropped her hand back down to her side. "That I can't explain, but he did do the drawing of the tea cup and the glasses for you, because of you. Wait, hold on. Don't fucking move, Cas."

She ran down the hallway towards her room and Castiel followed her, mostly because he could feel the eyes of everyone in the cafeteria boring into the back of his head and it was making him queasy. This was so much more public than he had wanted it to be, but what if? What if Dean really did like him and this wasn't all a joke? What was he going to do about how he felt about Dean?

Castiel stopped outside of Dean and Charlie's bedroom door, leaning on the wall next to it and staring at the phone. If Meg called him now, what would he do? What if she told him she loved him too? Did it make him a bad person for wanting to try with Dean, even if it was only while he was in here and he had to go back to his real life once he left? No one would ever have to know and then Cas would finally know, could get this whole thing out of his system so that he could maybe have a normal relationship.

He could hear muffled voices coming from around the corner in the direction of the rec room, but he was too lost in thought, concerned with whatever it was that Charlie might show him to bother with investigating it. It was probably someone playing a video game already, something violent if the noises that sounded like shouting were anything to go by, probably Dick and Crowley since he hadn't seen them yet this morning.

"Here," Charlie said breathlessly, appearing in the doorway with a sketchbook, the one that Lisa had pressed into Dean's hands that first day that the other man had been so excited about seeing her. Castiel couldn't believe that he had forgotten about that. "But don't tell him I showed you this, he would kill me."

Cas nodded and took the sketchbook carefully, opening it to a random page near the front to find a roughly sketched picture of Charlie's Tolkein book laid open face down on the page. The greatest detail was on the cover where a mountain range was drawn; it looked a lot like the drawings that he had gotten, done in pencil like both the mug and the glasses had been. And it wasn't signed either so it was ambiguous too who had done it.

He flipped farther into the book and found an even rougher sketch of a face, but fucking fuck there wasn't any mistaking it. Not with that hair that had been added in random dark, spiky points on top of the mostly blank oval that made up the face. The only thing that was on it was a pair of lips, ones that were so familiar that just looking at them had Castiel touching his own to make sure that Dean had gotten the overexaggerated dip in his top one that he had always thought made him look entirely unkissable just right. Which he had, along with the subtle stubble shaded down and around the jaw.

"Lisa told him to draw something that inspires him," Charlie explained beside him. "And since you got here, that's been stuff involving you."

"Jesus," Castiel whispered, jumping when a man came barreling around the corner from the rec room toward him.

He slapped the sketchbook shut and hurriedly shoved it back into Charlie's hands when Dean came racing around the corner too, wearing Castiel's sweater over a soft looking light grey shirt that had buttons at the throat. The other man stopped short when he saw Castiel, but was promptly bumped into from behind by another person; a tall, gangly looking boy wearing a red polo shirt and khakis who had longish, shaggy brown hair and a look of complete disappointment on his face.

"Move Dean!" The boy said, nudging at Dean until he startled out of his stupor and continued to chase after the gruff looking older man. "Stop, dad. Come back here and talk to him!"

"Fine, Sam." The man said turning around unexpectedly right as Dean caught up to him and stepping close to the other patient to jab a hard finger into Dean's chest. "Dean, you want to know what I think of your progress? Did Missouri tell you that's what this was? Be realistic, it's called a relapse and as long as you can't keep it together you aren't coming around your brother anymore."

"Dad, I can keep it together." Dean objected, stepping back and rubbing at the spot on his chest that the older man had been poking him. "It's better this time, I've got incentive and there's no one here this time wh—"

"It's always someone else's fault, Dean." Dean's dad said, cutting off his son brusquely with a wave of his hand towards the younger boy. "You can't take responsibility for why this is your fault. Shit happens to everyone and you don't see me or Sam trying to kill ourselves all the time."

"But dad, I saw Aza—" the other patient started again, rubbing at his arms through Castiel's sweater.

"Don't say his name, those are you rules, Dean. You make the rest of us walk around on eggshells, always worrying if one of us is going to accidentally _trigger_ you," he spat the word at his son and Castiel winced sympathetically, stopping Charlie who had appeared at her bedroom door next to him and looked about ready to kill someone. "Well, next time you feel like you want to die how about you do us all a favor and finish the fucking job? Instead of half-assing it like everything else you do, come on Sam."

Castiel was horror struck, watching as the boy who must be Dean's younger brother stood by while their father walked away. Sam breathed hard through his nose, shaking his head disgustedly at the older man's back before turning and pulling the other boy in for a tight hug. He patted Dean on the back a couple of times before moving back and shaking his brother lightly by the shoulders, saying something that Cas couldn't hear before trailing miserably after his father, down the hallway and out of sight around the corner.

Dean stepped back towards the wall of the hallway, stumbling into it with a pained sounding whimper that had Castiel moving before he realized that he wasn't holding onto Charlie anymore, but was walking towards the other man and wrapping his arms around him; pressing Dean back against the wall because the patient was sagging like his knees were about to give out underneath him and Cas knew that he wouldn't be able to hold Dean up on his own. It was the crying that did it, broke Cas's heart all over again when he felt Dean shaking with silent tears as he buried his face into his neck and clutched at his back.

"I told him I don't want to die anymore, Cas." Dean sobbed against his skin and Castiel nodded into Dean's hair, he understood he really really did.

He didn't want to die anymore either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less angst? Did any of this make anything better? No? I thought so, keep breathing. I'm off tomorrow so *fingers crossed* I'll get a bunch of stuff done. Hang in there babes.


	15. Chapter 15

It took about fifteen minutes for Cas to get Dean calmed down enough to agree to go into the cafeteria so they could all eat breakfast and take their respective meds. Fifteen minutes that were spent letting Dean cry into his neck and finally allowing himself to touch the other man's short light brown hair in a way Cas hoped came across as soothing as he meant for it to be and less indulgent that it felt because he had been imagining that it was soft. It was probably the only one of his fantasies that he would actually get to experience ever, it was amazing.

His hands felt shaky when Dean mumbled that he was fine, drawing in a deep breath against the tear-damped skin of Castiel's neck and pulling away with an embarrassed look on his face. Cas noticed that Dean's hands lingered on his back for a second longer than was strictly necessary before sliding down with a light trailing of his fingers to Castiel's hands that he gave a quick squeeze to before the larger man crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

"Sorry, man." Dean muttered, his red-rimmed eyes glancing up at Castiel again before he looked at something over his shoulder and sighed dramatically. "Charlie could you stop looking at me like that, I'm fine. Jesus, I told you my dad and I don't get along."

"Bit of an understatement there, Dean." Charlie muttered, stepping forward and slinging an arm around her roommate's shoulder, nudging the still dumbstruck Cas out of her way as she went. "Come on, I'm starving and this early morning emotional rollercoaster shit is getting old. Let's get back to normal, right Cas?"

Normal was not the term that he would use to describe how his life at Long Island College Hospital had been up until this point, but when had his life ever been normal to begin with? Maybe that's why all of this was coming so easily to him, this liking Dean stuff. It felt like the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island and how his stomach would drop in anticipation while the moving cars slid along the rails as it rotated. It felt like the smell of turpentine which had been the smell he most often associated with his mom. It felt like he fit, in Dean's arms and the lives of the people that he had met so far, for the first time in a long time.

It felt like he could be this person who laughed and smiled and comforted people even though he couldn't take care of himself enough to keep it together half the time. Maybe this was even what getting better felt like? But it was probably way too soon to be making assumptions like that. So he just nodded dumbly at the other girl and followed behind her and Dean to the cafeteria where he took his seat in front of his now lukewarm waffles, glancing at the little cup containing the Prozac that Missouri had prescribed for him that had been set on his tray next to his mug of tea.

Dean took his usual seat and nodded a thanks when Jo deposited his tray in front of him with a little sympathetic squeeze to his shoulder before rushing across the room to where Ruby and Lilith were talking in ever louder and angrier tones with each other.

"Okay, so we're good right?" Ash asked warily, looking around the table as he salted the scrambled eggs he was eating before reaching over to where Charlie was poking disgustingly at her cereal and snatching up her salt and pepper packets too. "You got it all sorted, Cas?"

"Oh, yea," Castiel replied quickly, taking his eyes off of Dean who was meticulously assembling his cup of coffee with a look of intense concentration on his face. "Everything is good."

"What was wrong?" Dean asked, looking up at him before picking up his mug and tossing back his own pills with a resigned sigh and a gulp of coffee.

The larger man pushed the food on his tray away from himself and settled back in his chair. Cas watched Dean push the sleeves of his cardigan up before pulling them back down again; rolling the soft hem of the material between his thumb and index finger before pushing it back up again with an irritated shake of his head. Dean was still upset and honestly, Cas couldn't blame him. If his dad or his mom had said something like that their life would be better if he were dead, well nothing would have stopped him from jumping off that bridge when he had had the chance.

Dean ran a hand over his face tiredly and started thrumming his fingers agitatedly on the table, it was only then that Cas realized that he still hadn't answered Dean. But the tapping was distracting, since he could only think of how Dean's hands had felt on the small of his back and running over his shoulders when he had let go and it was all just really really too much for him to focus on all at once. So he reached out a hand and put it over Dean's stilling the other man's frantic movements; it was a reactionary gesture, but something that he probably wouldn't have done if he hasn't just spent the last quarter of an hour feeling Dean's body pressed beneath his own.

He was pretty proud of himself for not having gotten a raging hard on while he had been consoling Dean, but it hadn't been something he'd had to consciously control. Cas's brain had just been solely consumed with making Dean feel better and while a primal part had categorized every little bit of information it could absorb about the other man for the short time he had been holding him, filing away the smell of Dean's cologne and how his hands fit on the other man's waist like they were made to be there for later evaluation the fact that he hadn't completely embarrassed himself by revealing that his body still reacted like he was a hopelessly hormonal teenage didn't even register for him until just now.

Now when he _was_ hard and Dean was looking at the way Castiel's hand was covering his own and smiling softly at him and what was the question again?

"That sweater looks really good on you," he muttered, trying to save face because now he was blushing and willing his stupid hand to move back to his stupid tray so that he could try to not put his goddamn foot in his mouth anymore today. Now that he knew Dean liked him, Cas was even more concerned about not making an idiot out of himself.

"Oh, this old thing? Yea, y'know I'm pretty attached to it." Dean replied teasingly, plucking at the front of it self-consciously for a second before he pulled his hand out from under Castiel's and tugged on the sleeve of his sleep wrinkled t-shirt. "What up with this? Did you even sleep at all, Cas?"

Cas nodded. God, why did his face feel like it was on fire? Especially compared to the way his hand that had been over Dean's was all icy cool and tingly, making the rest of his body feel overheated and hyper sensitive. He wasn't sweating though, so maybe that was an improvement.

"Christ on a cracker," Charlie complained, pointing her spoon accusingly at the two of them. "I knew this would happen, stop being weird. Stop it right now."

"I'm not being weird," Dean said sounding offended with a hand pressed to his chest. "Are you being weird, Cas? No? See Charlie, no one is being weird here."

"I'm pretty weird," Ash offered, shrugging when everyone at the table turned to look at him. "Has anyone seen Becky? She off with Crowley again?"

"Not likely," Charlie snorted under her breath before waving dismissively towards the door to the cafeteria. "She's with Missouri, discussing how seriously she is about her treatment here. If you asked she would probably tell you all about it, I know she talked my ear off all fucking night."

"I think we'd all hold down our breakfasts better if we didn't have to hear about Becky and Crowley having sex," Dean replied drily, winking at Castiel conspiratorially and bumping their knees together under the table. "Especially when we just got Mr. Strong and Silent over here to start enjoying food again. Word of advice, Cas. A garden omelet is just a cleverly disguised salad."

"Well then why did you get it?" Cas asked, relieved that he could actually contribute something to the conversation that was more than a nod or a shrug; Dean's knee was still pressed against his under the table and it was practically the only thing holding him down from floating away from how strangely wonderful this all was.

"I wasn't really paying attention last night when I filled out my menu," Dean muttered quickly, blushing hard and looking down at his tray before giving Charlie a dirty look when she started giggling beside him. "Shut up, jerkface. You shouldn't have hidden my flannels; I would be eating waffles right now if it wasn't for you."

Cas could see Charlie winding up for a retort and while it was super amusing watching the two roommates banter back and forth he wanted to feel that stomach dropping, soaring feeling in his chest again anytime that Dean looked at him and smiled. So he just reached out wordlessly and grabbed Dean's omelet, it probably wouldn't be the worst thing he ever had; Gabe liked to put bacon and cheese into as much stuff that he cooked as possible, but Kali was practically vegetarian and Cas was used to eating things that other people thought were strange. This was tame when compared with eating Rocky Mountain oysters with Gabriel, fucking haute cuisine bullshit.

He moved his waffles next, placing them carefully on Dean's tray and then scooting the whole thing back towards the other man before remembering that Dean needed syrup and butter too, so he held them out with an expression that he hoped look nonchalant. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, this was probably the smoothest gesture he had ever made to someone he liked. Most of the time he was a stumbling, stuttering mess, but with Dean...he could probably handle pretending to be cool for at least five minutes or so.

"No fair!" Charlie groused, watching Castiel do his whole food exchange with an endeared smirk on her face. "I totally called those waffles dude, but you just give them up because Deany-poo wants them? You two are going to gang up on the rest of us all the time aren't you?"

Cas ignored her, too caught up in the way that Dean's eyes lit up as he took the offered syrup and butter packets out of his hand and hesitated for just a second, biting his lip indecisively as he looked askance at Castiel who just rolled his eyes in response and nodded.

"My brother is a chef, Dean. I promise eating vegetables is not going to kill me," Cas joked, jostling his knee against Dean's under the table.

He kind of liked that he could touch Dean without anyone else seeing, Cas wasn't sure if he could do the whole holding hands fingers intertwined thing with another guy just yet; in fact the thought alone made him slightly queasy when he thought of what some of the other patients might say, Crowley and Dick in particular. Plus he didn't even know what he and Dean were doing; there was obviously something more there than just friendship. Flirting maybe? Was it going to go farther than that? Did Cas even want it to go farther than that?

"Just don't call me Deany-poo," Dean teased, pressing his knee back into Castiel's and grinning madly down at his waffles as he liberally applied butter and syrup to the breakfast pastry. "You ready to play, Ash? I'm pretty sure it was your turn when we left off."

"Sure dude," the other patient drawled, swallowing down the mouthful of eggs and bacon that he was trying to talk around. "I'm gonna cop out and do an easy one. Ernie Hemingway, writer, and a short sweet shot to the head."

"You're right, that was a cop out." Charlie scoffed, flicking a piece of soggy cereal in Ash's direction before glancing contemplatively towards the cafeteria doors. "But y'know what? I'm running on empty this morning so I'm going to throw out Virginia Woolf, also a writer, and she filled her pockets with stones before walking into a river."

Dean nodded beside him, pointing his fork at Charlie as he worked to swallow the waffles that were in his mouth. There was some syrup on the corner of his mouth and Cas wondered if it would be entirely too forward of him if he reached out and wiped it off. His hand hovered over his napkin, toying with the edge of it before he almost whimpered when Dean's tongue swiped out over his lips quickly, licking over the plush pink skin almost shyly when he realized Cas was watching him. Castiel was so completely out of his element here, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

"Have you ever looked up her suicide note?" Dean asked Charlie, gazing around the table at Ash and Castiel when she shook her head at him. "Well, you should sometime. It's the most poetic thing I've ever read in my life. Y'know besides like actual poetry. Oh! Mine's gonna be John Berryman. He was a poet, wrote these ones called dream songs. Jumped off the Washington Avenue Bridge in Minneapolis."

Cas choked on his tea, his lungs deciding that breathing while drinking something was a really good idea and causing the hot liquid to pour out of his nose as he coughed from the shock of Dean picking someone for their game who had killed himself in the same way that Castiel had wanted to. Hearing Charlie say Virginia Woolf had made him squirmy, mostly because of the whole pockets full of stones thing. That's what his messenger bag had been intended to do after all; make him sink fast enough that he wouldn't be able to fight against the water invading his lungs, plus it had seemed sort of poetic to drown all of his unfinished papers and internship applications in the East River along with himself. But now he knew what it felt like to actually have water in his lungs and no. Just no.

"Whoa, Cas." Dean exclaimed reaching out with a concerned sounding chuckle to pat at his back. "Jesus, maybe we need to skip you. Get your breath back, man. I'm not ready for you to die just yet."

"No," he objected breathlessly, wiping away the tears from his coughing fit with the heel of his hand and trying desperately to remember if he had let it slip to anyone here yet why he had ended up in the psych ward. Dean and everyone else probably thought he had like an anxiety disorder or something, how would they look at him if they knew the truth? Would Dean still like him then? Weak and fickle and cowardly as he was? Probably not. "I'll play, I'm good. I don't want to lose."

"Jeez, look at your competitive streak," Dean replied, brow furrowed confusedly as he shook his head at Charlie in a 'can you believe this guy?' kind of way. "It's not that important, Cas, really. Winning is just more for bragging rights, it's not like there's a prize or anything."

"Why not?" Castiel asked, trying to sound less mortified than he actually felt. How long did he actually think he could trick Dean into liking him for anyway? This was going to blow up in his face. "I mean, maybe when it gets down to just two people then prizes can be discussed. Incentive, remember?"

"Cause you're gonna win?" Dean asked him, arching an amused at him and leaning close across the corner of the table that was separating them so that he could drop his voice conspiratorially lower. "Do you have any idea how long I've been playing this game, Cas? You're not going to win, sweetheart."

Fuck. Why in the hell did that make his heart skip a beat? Meg called him sugar and honey and dollface all the time, Balthazar even called him darling when he wanted something really badly.

"Well, start thinking of what you want _if_ you win," Castiel said softly, dropping his eyes down to Dean's lips for a second before he shook his head and looked at the other man's eyes instead. At the swirls of green and gold and flecks of brown that were scattered just like freckles across Dean's iris; more freckles for him to count. "And so will I. But I really want to win, Dean."

Dean smirked, a corner of his mouth quirking up causing Cas's eyes to flicker towards the movement again. Staying there this time because he wanted to look at Dean's lips and who the fuck was going to stop him? His family wasn't here and his teachers weren't here and there was no one to be disappointed in him for thinking Dean had the most perfect lips of any man he had ever seen.

"Oh my god, the eye fucking!" Charlie exclaimed across from him, making Castiel jump a bit in his seat. "Ash your turn, that level of eye sex gets you skipped, Cas."

"Nononono," he said holding up his hand at Charlie and laughing off her mock sternness because that's what Dean was doing and this was okay. He liked this, flirting like it was easy and indulging in just looking because even though many different parts of him wanted to, Cas wasn't sure if he could ever do more than just look and marvel at how attractive, funny, _normal_ Dean liked him. "Okay, um...fuck it, we're all being lazy. Ian Curtis, singer for Joy Division, hung himself."

"Which band is that again?" Ash asked, scratching at the back of his head. "Is that the one with the 'Fate, up against you will', that one song? Shit I don't know the name of it."

"That's Echo & The Bunnymen, Ash" Cas said, humming the chorus of _Love Will Tear Us Apart_ for the other man because it was easily Joy Division's most recognizable song. Even people who didn't know they had heard Joy Division knew that song. "But um...it's the same time period and stuff, so you were close."

"Yea yea, I know that song," Ash said excitedly, waving his hand at Castiel for him to be quiet, which he already was because the fingers of Dean's left hand had brushed cautiously across the knuckles of his hand that was loosely wrapped around his mug of tea. His only thoughts were to not freak out and to keep breathing, talking was pretty much the last thing he thought he could manage right now. "But, you two losers are both wrong because I'm going to win. And when I do, I want a pizza party."

"That might be a little hard to manage, Ash." Charlie said doubtfully. "You'd have to get the staff on board and then we'd have to come up with the money to actually buy pizza."

"Dude, I can talk Jo into anything. She's like the little sister that hasn't written me off yet. If you guys can come up with the money then I want a pizza party." Ash explained excitedly, tossing a piece of toast in Dean and Castiel's direction; finally breaking him out of the breathless stupor that was caused by Dean's light, careful caress. "Are you two listening?"

"Of course they aren't," the other girl said, gesturing towards both of them with feigned annoyance. Cas could see that she was smiling and his own face already hurt just a little bit so he knew that he must be grinning like a moron too, but it was like he couldn't help mirroring Dean's; the other man's shy smile was just too adorable. "Fucking, Christ. Dean. Cas. Pizza party, got it?"

"Yea, dude we got it," Dean mumbled, pulling his hand away from Castiel's white knuckle grip on his tea mug to take another bite of his waffles. "So are you gonna play or what? Talking big about pizza, but you're not backing it up, Ash."

"No, this is me stepping up my game, man. You have no idea how badly I want some fucking pizza that doesn't taste like cardboard. So here it is, Salvador Allende. Dude was the president of Chile and there was like this fucking coup because he wanted to reform and he supported communism which isn't as bad as everyone thinks it. But his military was like 'No, man!' and they stormed his presidential palace or whatever the Chilean version of the White House is and the dude shot himself. How fucking gnarly is that? He shot himself, rather than surrender to a fascist regime. That's fucking metal."

Dean frowned in confusion, shaking his head quickly at Ash and letting his fork clatter down onto his plate. "Ash, man, first of all take your fucking meds already. You talk like a cartoon character on speed when you skip pills, I've told you that a million times. Second, no. That one doesn't count."

"And why the hell not?" Ash asked petulantly, glancing up at Becky who dropped heavily into her regular chair at the end of the table. "That guy is a total legend, he killed himself. It counts."

"No, I can see why it doesn't." Charlie argued, making an unconvinced sounding noise at the back of her throat. "I mean if he was going to be assassinated anyway then it kinda feels like he was just trying to end stuff on his own terms."

"Isn't that the point?" the other man asked, running a hand through his hair agitatedly causing the dirty blonde strands of his mullet to tangle around his shoulders. "Suicide is ending things on your own terms."

"Not all the time though," Castiel said softly, surprising himself because the thought had fluttered through his head and out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He glanced up at the rest of his tablemates, stopping at Dean who looking down at his arms and gnawing on his lip; Cas just wanted the other man to know he wasn't alone even if he wasn't ready to tell him exactly just how not alone he was yet. "Sometimes it's just too much, the weight of living. How it presses down on you and just...crushes you. Everything about you until you feel like the only good thing you can do for anyone is take yourself out of the equation. Maybe then it'll all make sense for everyone else. Maybe you were the variable fucking everything up."

It was silent for a couple of seconds, more than long enough for what he had said to actually sink into his thick, stupid brain. There was no way they wouldn't know why he was here now; none of them were unintelligent not even Becky and Ash who did stupid shit (Crowley and mixing up their pills probably being the most stupid of the shit).

"We're taking a vote," Charlie said, cutting across the oppressive silence with her nonchalance as she reached out without looking and took Dean's hand in her own. Cas wished that he hadn't opened his mouth to begin with because the other man looked like he was about to cry and it was all his fault. "Brazilian Presidents, suicide via failed political coup, counts? Hands up for yes."

Ash raised his hand high into the air, but no one else moved. Even though Cas wanted really badly to hug Dean again and apologize and explain that he had only said that because he knew what he was talking about, he didn't because it felt too forward. All of this touching, more than he had had in years outside of family members and Meg, was quickly becoming addictive and Cas just didn't wanted to get too used to it before Dean decided he didn't like him anymore. It would hurt less that way.

"This is bullshit and he was fucking Chilean," Ash muttered dropping his hand back down so that he could snatch up his pills and toss them back, turning his head after he swallowed to stick his tongue out at Jo was standing in the cafeteria doorway and gave him a thumbs up when she saw that he had taken his meds. "Charlie if you win, you totally owe me a pizza party. You know it's a good idea."

"It's pretty good," she conceded, looking meaningfully at Castiel as she said it. "But I think that Dean and Cas are willing to fight a lot harder for what they want than I am willing to fight just for the privilege of sitting around and watching you eat pizza. Right, Deany-poo?"

Dean shrugged, glancing up at Castiel before clearing his throat and sitting up straighter; tugging on the front of his shirt before dropping his hands down into his lap, out of handholding reach for Cas who tried to not be too disappointed about it because of course Dean didn't want to hold his hand. Not now.

"I'm gonna have to think on it," Dean said, looking resolutely at his hands in his lap and every single bite of his omelet that Cas had managed to eat so far felt like a lead weight in his stomach. Or at least it did until Dean started smirking at his hands, knocking his boot covered foot against Castiel's own canvas shod one in a playful way. "Spoiled you by giving you that drawing last night, now I _have_ to win just to save my reputation"

"So you aren't going to think of something that you want as a prize?" Cas asked, breathing a little easier because Dean wasn't mad at him and fucking hell he didn't want to lose this just now that he had found it. He felt more alive than he had since starting college. "I might win just because I'm more motivated than you are."

"Cas," Dean said seriously, licking his lips and nodding at his lap. "I promise, I'm pretty damn motivated. I'm sure I can think of something I want to win."

Cas nodded, glancing at the cafeteria doors when Missouri appeared with an exasperated expression on her face; he hoped that she wasn't looking for him yet. He wasn't ready to leave Dean, but the thing that made him jump almost completely out of his skin wasn't the fact that once the doctor spotted him her expression changed to one of grim determination and it wasn't Crowley making a snide comment as he passed about the fact that he was still wearing the same clothes from the night before; Cas was pretty sure he heard the phrase 'walk of shame', but no, that wasn't what made him jump in surprise and spill half of his now tepid mug of tea down the front of his shirt.

It was Dean's hand, settling on his knee in almost an exact mimicry of how the other man had supported his weight on Castiel to retrieve his wayward eyelash; the weight of it feeling too light almost as if Dean was scared to touch him. Castiel tried to pass off his jumpiness as him being a klutz, wiping a shaking hand across the front of his shirt and reaching for his napkins with the other only to feel Dean's hand start to withdraw.

"No," Castiel hissed quickly, slapping down his hand on top of Dean's; effectively sandwiching the other man's hand between his own and his denim clad knee. He felt Dean tense and Cas let out an uneven breath, closing his eyes and forcing his arousal back down to a more manageable level before he did something embarrassing. _Please, god don't let Dean regret this; please don't let me fuck this up._ "I mean, this is fine. It doesn't bother me."

He heard Dean let out a sigh of relief and felt his hand relax against his knee, fingers spreading slightly in an invitation for Castiel to hold his hand, but Cas hadn't even opened his eyes yet. Too scared of what kind of looks he might be getting from everyone else at the table and how those looks might make him throw up everywhere if he saw them; Cas was pretty sure that would count as fucking up.

"Dean, honey," Missouri said softly and Castiel looked up to see the doctor standing behind Charlie's chair with her brows furrowed in concerned. "Let's have a chat."

"Did you talk to my dad?" Dean asked and Castiel felt the other man's grip on his knee spasm slightly when the older woman nodded at him, sighing in resignation before he stood up to follow her with one last lingering look over his shoulder at Cas.

Cas tried to smile supportively at the other man, because while he was happy that it wasn't his turn to talk to Missouri yet and he wasn't particularly looking forward to the time when it would be, he still wanted Dean to know that he was in this; whatever this was between them for as long as he could be without freaking out or messing it up.

"You're welcome by the way," Charlie said drily across from him, skewering a piece of Dean's abandoned waffles on the end of her fork and bringing it quickly to her mouth before she got syrup everywhere. "You two are just disgusting; I've never shipped anything harder in my life. And that includes Willow and Tara."

He smirked at that, rolling his eyes and going back to his cleverly disguised salad as Charlie and Becky started arguing about who was better suited for Buffy, Angel or Spike. Ash piped in saying that he had always thought Riley was a pretty stand up dude, but Cas didn't have enough knowledge about the show to voice an opinion of his own. Plus he was too caught up in his head, where he was quietly ranting to himself about how unprepared he was for anything Dean might want from him. He had never had a relationship or even just a fuck buddy. Shit, he was still a fucking virgin and he could count on one hand the number of girls he had kissed.

In short, he had no idea what he was doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys. I keep getting distracted and brought down by stuff and just fluffiness is eluding me, but I hope this helps with the aftermath of tonight's first episode back (I haven't watched it yet, but tumblr is breaking from the feels and I am hiding here). Let me know what you think and I'm going to try to focus, maybe I need more caffeine.


	16. Chapter 16

Charlie was following him, chattering in his ear because she said that she had nothing better to do even though Castiel had already told her twice that he was going to take a shower. Spending his entire day in the same clothes that he had worn the night before and then slept in and then been a completely huge nervous wreck with Dean in did not seem like something someone who wanted to get their shit together would do. So Cas was going to shower and change clothes and maybe masturbate so that he could kill the erection that was totally going to mortify him the next time he saw Dean if he didn't take care of it right the fuck now.

But Charlie was making the whole thing way more complicated than it needed to be because she was bored and didn't want to go to morning group since Cas wasn't going and Dean was still with Missouri. Plus she said that the intern who was running the group in the doctor's absence gave her the creeps. Apparently the young, kindly looking dark haired woman in the stylish light leather jacket who was sitting in Missouri's usual chair at the top of the circle reminded her of Death. Charlie referenced some comic book that Cas had never heard of to support her argument and he just nodded, hoping it would be enough to make her go away when he went into his room to get his stuff for his shower.

"You're really messy, Cas." Charlie complained, plopping down on his unmade bed with a slightly disgusted look on her face as she kicked his rumpled, sweat stained blanket to the end of the mattress and settled with her back against his headboard. "Ugh, maybe you should spruce up or something; Dean's a bit of a neat freak, y'know?"

"All I didn't do was make the bed, Charlie." Castiel replied, rolling his eyes at how his bed not being pristine equated to messy; he was probably the most organized person in his apartment, he had to be in order to keep up with all of his schoolwork and combat the disaster zone that was Balthazar's room from slowly encroaching in on the rest of the apartment. "Your mom must have been a real hard-ass if you think that means I'm a slob."

He didn't realize what he had said at first, didn't understand why the other girl's green eyes got wide first and then tear-filled second before she ducked her head and hid behind the curtain of her hair with a quick shake of her head. But once he did realize it, Cas felt like a complete fucking asshole. What was it he had overheard her saying to Dean? Her parents were dead too? Just like his mom and apparently Dean's, but he wasn't supposed to know that because they hadn't told him and her finding out that he had eavesdropped on their conversation would probably not go over very well.

So he feigned ignorance, cringing at how unconvincing his voice sounded when he finally managed to stop gaping like an idiot. "Shit, Charlie. What did I say? I'll make the fucking bed…just don't…cry. I can't handle girls crying."

"I'm not crying, Cas. Fuck, I'm sorry." Charlie said as she straightened her shoulders and lifted her head briskly, wiping the back of her hand over her eyes before giving him a dazzling, too chipper to be genuine smile. "I just um…the bed thing comes from the shelters not my mom. It was sort of like a courtesy thing for the people that run those kind of places."

"Oh," Castiel said, turning towards his dresser and hesitating for a second as he mulled over the almost glimpse into Charlie's past before opening the drawer and starting to look through the shirts that his brother had brought for him. "So um…when Crowley and Dick were talking about you in group yesterday…"

"I'm homeless," he heard come from behind him, Charlie's voice sounding so nonchalant and heartbreakingly used to the fact that she didn't have a bed or a couch or a closet to call her own that Castiel could hardly stand it.

He felt suddenly spoiled; Castiel couldn't imagine his life without his stuff, his books and his CDs and clothes and random stupid knick-knacks that he had held onto over the years because they reminded him of a time when things had been happier and easier for him. Charlie probably didn't have anything like that, fuck she didn't even have clothes to wear for an interview; Cas had full tuxedo hanging in the back of his closet right now, one that Michael had insisted he needed just in case. Just in case of what? Who needed a tux in everyday life?

"This is the part where you say you're sorry and things get awkward and you pity me," Charlie continued, her voice growing more and more bitter as she spoke. "Or if you're an asshole you'll ask why I can't just go out and get a job and improve my circumstances. Just know that if that's where you go with this I'm telling Deany-poo not to waste his breath on you anymore."

"Would it still make me an asshole if I just asked how it happened?" Castiel said softly, picking out a fairly newish Arcade Fire shirt; Gabe must have just grabbed the first things he had seen in his closet or something. "I mean, if that doesn't break the whole 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' rule because I really am not sure what mine is yet."

"I don't mind telling you, Cas." The other girl said with a scoff. He glanced over his shoulder to see her smiling softly at Rufus as the older man rolled over in his bed and grumbled something blearily at her that he couldn't understand. "Just um…don't show me yours, please. I'm pretty sure Dean would kill me if I saw your junk before he did."

Castiel felt all of his blood rush to his face at that, so much for killing that boner the old fashioned way then, and was just supremely thankful that his back was to the other girl again as he stacked his new set of clothes carefully on top of his dresser as slowly as possible so that he could give it time to go away before Charlie could see how red he was.

"Oh man, one dick joke and you're completely freaked. You really never have liked a guy before huh?"

He shook his head and leaned against the dresser, bowing his head in defeat as he realized that he was fooling exactly no one by trying to act suave and cool around Dean because they could all tell what a fraud he was. Just like he had always been the fraudulent Shurley amongst his siblings who had all proven that they deserved to be the children of one of the most creative writers in the country by being talented and successful just like their dad was.

"Are you going to tell Dean that?" Charlie asked and he shook his head quicker than the first time, feeling his stomach heave when he thought of the other man being disappointed and disgusted by him if he found out how inexperienced Castiel actually was. "Well, maybe that's for the best. I wouldn't say lie to him if he asks or whatever, but he probably won't and this way you're going into the whole thing with no expectations so he won't feel pressured and freak out."

"Like Dean freaks out about anything," Cas muttered under his breath, glancing at his GRE study guide that held both of the drawings that Dean had done for him and relaxing just a little bit. "So you're advice is to take things slow with Dean?"

"Well, I didn't know you were in the market for advice," the other girl said, Cas could hear her creaking around on the bed and looked over his shoulder to see her holding a pillow high over her head like she was about to pummel him with it. Charlie grinned sheepishly when she saw him watching her and cradled the pillow in her lap instead, patting the bed next to her invitingly. "But since you're apparently in need and oblivious I guess the best advice I can give you about Dean is to let him call the shots. Lord knows the poor boy has his own issues with relationships."

"What do you mean?" he asked moving quickly to sit next to the other girl, Cas had been interested before when he had asked her to tell him how she had ended up homeless, but he needed all of the help with Dean he could get and her cryptic statements were just fueling his already burning curiosity.

Charlie shook her head though, slapping him lightly on the arm in a sisterly way that made him wish he could talk to Anna. She was so much better with romance than he was and Cas couldn't pay his little sister to keep her opinion to herself sometimes.

"It's not my story to tell, Cas," she explained. "I told you I don't like to talk about other people's business, Dean will tell you when he's ready. Just don't…push him, okay?"

"I won't," Castiel agreed quickly, picking at what was left of his fingernails so that he wouldn't grovel at Charlie's feet for every scrap of information about Dean that he could get. "I wouldn't, not ever."

He found himself wanting to know the most inane details about the other man; what was his favorite color? Where did he learn how to draw so well? Which park was his favorite in Brooklyn? Which paintings in the Metro inspired him? The scars, he had a lot of questions about the scars. But probably the most important one was why did someone so perfect like him? Why in the world would Dean ever settle for someone so unextraordinary and unimportant?

"So the story of being homeless then," Charlie sighed, stretching her arms over her head before bringing her hands back to her lap and cracking her knuckles. "Do you want the abridged version or the director's cut?"

"I think you're mixing metaphors there," Castiel pointed out, smirking when the comment earned a giggle from the other girl. He was just happy she was smiling now, he hadn't been lying when he said he couldn't deal with crying girls; it made him just freeze like a deer caught in headlights.

"I'll give you the short one so you can change before anger management," she said quickly, flapping her hands at him impatiently even though he wasn't speaking. "Okay, well. I guess the short version isn't exactly short either, but it starts with me being an orphan."

"Oh, Char—"Castiel started, wringing his hands together in his lap for a second before making the split second decision to take the other patient's hand in his own. It didn't feel the same as when he touched Dean, charged, but then again he hadn't really been expecting it to feel that way.

"Just don't say you're sorry, Cas." Charlie interrupted, giving his hand a small squeeze and smiling at him sadly. "I've heard it a million times and it doesn't bring them back so just...fuck, it was a long time ago, okay? I already get enough sympathy for the whole homeless thing so not a lot of people have heard the whole story, but I'm working being more open and if Dean trusts you then I trust you."

"It's not sympathy, Charlie." Cas explained looking down at his lap when he felt the blush creeping back up his cheeks again at the mention of Dean. "It's…solidarity, I guess. My mom died…about a year ago and all of the rest of my family is over it, but I don't know. It feels like every time someone says they are sorry about it feels like she just died yesterday and I'm just…"

"Empty," the other girl finished softly with an understanding nod of her head. "My parent's died when I was twelve, in a car crash. I was at a slumber party and all the other girls were talking about boys that liked and like which member of N'Sync they thought was the cutest and shit like that, but when they got to me... What was I supposed to say? My celebrity crush back then was fucking Agent Scully and…I didn't want them to know. Because if they knew that I liked girls like that it would make me a freak, like puberty isn't already hard enough without going though it with no friends. So I faked sick, until my friend's mom called my parents."

Castiel looked up again when he heard the other girl let out a shaky sigh and he found Charlie pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand, eyes shut tight like she had a headache, but Cas knew the look of someone who didn't want to fucking cry. He had seen it on his father's and his siblings' faces often enough while they were visiting their mom in the hospital and he had tried to mimic it himself when they had all looked at him weird for not being able to cry when all of the rest of them were, but his glasses always got in the way.

"I'm fine, Cas." She mumbled, squeezing his hand again before letting go and hugging his pillow tight to her chest with both arms; stifling a pained sounding wheeze that he didn't think she was supposed to have let out. "Just…um…shit, so yea. That's how my parents died. People think that I'm here because I blame myself for it, but I didn't make that guy who hit them drink his weight in whiskey so I know that it's not my fault.

It took a lot of visits with social workers and getting moved around to what felt like every fucking foster family and group home in Queens until I learned that, but it wasn't until I decided that I knew how to take care of myself better than the system ever would that I got into real trouble. I just didn't want to be a charity case anymore and I was tired of everyone treating me like a kid; I wanted to just be grown up already so I could get started with my life already instead of being stuck in this terrible thing that had happened to me like four years before. Well what they don't tell you about being an adult, about taking care of yourself and being on your own is how expensive everything is and how lonely it gets; which is why I thought everything was normal at first.

I was sixteen when I took off from the group home that I was living in and the only job I could get was as a dishwasher at this hole in the wall restaurant in Chinatown. I mean, I didn't go hungry or anything, but no one was willing to have a runaway ward of the state sleeping on their couch and even with not having to pay for food all the time I was still doing good to just afford my Metropass to get to and from work.

The weird thing is I didn't even realize I was homeless at first, I thought I was just…in between living arrangements and it would all work itself out in the end. I was sleeping on the subway just because I was so exhausted from work and I had this friend who was letting me keep my stuff at his place, well until he was homeless too all of a sudden. Coming out to your dad over Christmas dinner…probably one of Dean's dumber ideas."

"So you've known Dean a long time then?" Castiel asked the other girl; earning an eye roll and a shrug from Charlie that he really should've been expecting. "Sorry, that was a silly question."

"No it's not," Charlie sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder and making a vague waving motion in the air between them. "It's just hard to explain, I mean numerically we've known each other for like three years. Dean and I went to the same high school together before I dropped out and ran away from the home; there were already rumors about him all over the school and by the time I left there were ones about me too so we kind of wallowed in our freakishness together. But then he and John had that fight and he went off his meds when he left home and Dean ended up in the hospital again. We lost touch for a little while after that, until he came back here about two weeks after I got admitted.

I had bounced around between jobs for a little bit, never making enough to afford more than a shared apartment with a room the size of a shoebox in the most horribly rodent infested apartment this side of the Hudson River, but I figured it was better than staying in a shelter; at least there I had a place to keep my stuff and door that I could shut everyone else out with. There were like six other people living there and they all rotated out depending on who could and couldn't afford to pay for their bed anymore to our shitty, slumlord super. But I lost my last decent job when I started hearing voices."

Castiel felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion, how did hearing voices not qualify you as being crazy? He didn't hear voices, not even his mom's which sort of scared him sometimes because he was terrified of forgetting what it sounded like, but Missouri still thought that he was cuckoo enough to need treatment for his fucked up head.

"Trust me," Charlie deadpanned, looking off behind him with a knowing smirk on her face. "I know exactly what you're thinking. And when Dean and I finally caught up with each other here again, he had a hard time believing me too, but yea. I was hearing voices; first my mom's and only at night. She used to read me old fantasy books as bedtime stories, her favorites authors were Robert Jordan and Tolkein; she and I had just started re-reading the Lord of the Rings series when she and my dad died.

I didn't worry about it at first, I thought it was just me missing them and maybe stress and if I had been living in a decent apartment it probably would've been. But then I started hearing my dad's voice; he had always been a snarky son of a gun, a lot like Dean. That's probably why we got along so well in high school, but if you asked him he would probably say it's because he always wanted a sister; Sam's hair doesn't braid as well as mine does apparently."

"He braids your hair?" Cas was grinning as the image flittered through his mind.

He shouldn't be smiling because the story Charlie was telling him was serious and sad and fucked up in too many ways to count, but she was smiling in a self-satisfied way too; looking off past him like she was lost in the memories that involved her and a less-freckled, less-scarred version of Dean from high school. He wished he had known them in high school; it would've made the whole thing so much more bearable to have people that he got along with around.

"Oh, he braids my hair and we stay up late into the night gossiping, Cas," Charlie teased, tossing the pillow she was holding onto at his face. "Mostly about you, but I'm getting off point here."

"I'm pretty sure you lost him a while back anyway, Charlie."

Castiel turned towards the voice to see Dean leaning in the doorway, looking no worse for the wear from his session with Missouri and maybe even looking better than he had before he had gone with her; his eyes weren't red from crying anymore and he was wearing his familiar, intoxicating roughish smirk again. Cas felt his heart leap in his chest when the other patient winked at him, leaning back into the hallway so he could glance down it before taking a couple of steps into the room until he was standing behind Castiel.

He felt the other man's hands settle onto the wooden frame of the bed behind him, bracketing his spine and grazing against his t-shirt in a way that probably wasn't intentional, but still made him shiver and break out in goosebumps all along his arms. Cas tilted his head back so he could look up at Dean who was looking down at him in return, trying and failing to hide his grin by biting his lip which was not helping Castiel control the way his heart was beating all funny. Nope, not at all.

"But it sounded like you were telling him your Lifetime movie story," Dean continued after clearing his throat and leaning more of his weight onto the bed frame which creaked softly under the weight of the three adults it supported; the movement brought him closer to Castiel, close enough that he could feel the other man's body heat radiating through his t-shirt, but he wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. He was just grateful that Charlie had thrown a pillow at him because Jesus fucking Christ he was hard again. "Go on, red. I'll corroborate your psycho story; I've done all the research on it, Cas. Well, my brother did at least."

"Okay, okay," Charlie interrupted, sticking her tongue out at Dean when he grumbled about her being bossy. "You're one to talk, Dean. Don't forget I've got all the juicy awkward high school dirt on you. Anyway, when I started hearing my dad's voice that's when I freaked out a little bit, because it wasn't like when I heard my mom reading to me at night. He was just there, all the time. Providing this like, running background commentary about my coworkers at the customers that came in to the restaurant where I was a waitress then. Most of it was really funny; stuff I wanted to say, but didn't because we all have that filter that tells us not to make fun of other people's hair or call them out on how rude they are being."

"The social contract," Castiel said, nodding seriously.

Okay, maybe he wanted to impress Dean just a little, but the other man was right behind him and it was taking everything he had not to lean back into the other man's hands until he felt them on his back or shoulders or anywhere because he was pretty sure if Dean touched him again like when he had put his hand on Castiel knee at lunch he was going to come right then and there, just like he had in his dream about the other man. That would be just too fucking embarrassing to ever live down, even if he wanted nothing more than for Dean to touch him.

"Yea, that," Charlie continued, pointing at him with one finger and touching her nose briefly. "But one morning I woke up and the voices of my mom and dad were still there, but there were other voices too. Like scary voices that couldn't be controlled by the filter and they just kept whispering at me in my head; telling me that this customer was going to stab me or my boss was shorting me on my paycheck and I started saying those things out loud. Once I started I doing it I just couldn't stop and one day I just worked myself up so much thinking that my boss was this Russian mafia overlord who was going to have me assassinated for putting too many croutons on a salad that I made a huge scene and he fired me.

By then I didn't trust anyone and I had stopped showering because I didn't like to leave my room and my stuff unattended in the apartment because what if someone took it? Everything I had left of my mom and dad was in there, when I wasn't at home I just carried it all around with me in a couple of duffle bags. I couldn't find another job because I didn't trust any of the people interviewing me and I ran out of money pretty quick; my landlord had no qualms about kicking me and my duffle bags straight to the curb."

"But you're so normal Charlie," Castiel said in frustration, so caught up in the other girl's story that he didn't realize there was a hand on his shoulder until Dean's thumb moved; brushing softly over the fabric of his t-shirt as the other man hummed above him.

 _Oh sweet Jesus,_ Cas thought, shutting his eyes against the sudden swell of desire he had to make Dean made that noise again in a very different situation that he couldn't quite picture. _I am so royally fucked._

"Normal may not be the best word to describe her, Cas," Dean said jokingly, ducking down behind him briefly when Charlie made a move to throw the other pillow that was behind her back at him. "Go on tell him the crazy part, I'll just um…hide back here. This okay, Cas?"

Dean's face was right behind his shoulder, close to his ear so he could feel the other man's breath on his skin again and Cas's wild imagination thought that maybe it would be a fantastic idea for him to lean back so that Dean could put his chin on his shoulder; the other patient was in such an awkward position after all, crouching down behind him. But his spine was rigid and he was pretty sure if he felt the stubble on the other man's face anywhere near him he would throw all caution to the wind and pull Dean down into his lap for reasons that were entirely too graphic to be thought of while there were other people in the room. But he was thinking them and his cock was aware of his filthy, too desperate and confusing desire to have Dean's bow legs bracketing his hips like a girl because how else was he going to be able to kiss and bite at that perfect fucking freckled neck.

He cleared his throat and nodded quickly, ignoring how his erection was pressing painfully hard into the zipper of his jeans and wishing that Charlie could have left him alone for five fucking minutes so that he wouldn't be in this situation right now. Dean liking him did not make it okay for him to be thinking about the other man like that; he was supposed to be taking it slow, letting Dean take the lead. But he couldn't walk around sporting a boner anytime he was around the other man that would probably be a dead giveaway about how fucking little action he actually got.

"Ugh," Charlie said crinkling her nose at the two of them in mock disgust. "You two are just the grossest, like really you have no idea how you look right now. Anyway, you're both distracting!"

"I'd like to change clothes sometime this year," Cas managed to force out, thanking god that his voice didn't break from the strain of trying to keep it together under the cautious grazes of Dean's thumb on his shoulder and the gentle, soft puffs of air that were the other man's breathing against his ear on the opposite side. He idly wondered if Dean was always so careful, if he ever used those muscles that he had accidentally seen the other man changing to be anything other than the overcautious creature that Castiel had already seen.

"Okay, we'll fast track it then," Charlie continued, shifting around on the bed until she could stretch her legs out a little bit in front of her. "Um…I had just been evicted, hearing voices, fired, blahblahblah. That's where we're at, so yea. I um…I was homeless, like for real this time because no shelter would take me in if I was talking to myself. They thought that maybe I was dangerous and I probably was, I mean I was so scared that someone would steal the little bit of stuff I had left that I probably would have killed someone if they had touched me.

The voices were just out of control anytime I was around other people so I started spending more and more time by myself, I even avoided other homeless people when I could because the voices were even worse around them; like magnified and stuff. I couldn't sleep and I spent all winter just trying to not die from frostbite until I was wearing little all the clothes that had been in my duffle bags and all that was left inside of them was my copy of _The Hobbit_ and whatever food I managed to come up with that day.

I was just so scared all the time. I was scared of the voices and not being able to tell which thoughts were my own anymore, how much of my paranoia and hatred for everyone was actually something that had always been inside me until it got to be too much one day. I felt like I didn't know who I was anymore and I certainly didn't know who anyone else was; I finally figured out one day while I was waiting for the subway that the only way to make the voices stop was to get rid of the place they were coming from."

"You tried to ki—" Castiel started to ask, only to be silenced by a squeeze on his shoulder from Dean. He turned to look at the other man and watched as Dean put a finger to his lips, rendering Cas speechless mostly because why in the hell was that so fucking attractive to him?

"Yea, kinda," Charlie answered, finishing the question that was hanging in the air around them with a shrug and a flip of her hair. "I mean, a cop tackled me to the ground before I could actually step out in front of the train or whatever, but still. Apparently I screamed and fought and scratched the whole way here, but it was the closest hospital and I'm told that that cop was super happy to have me away from him and his partner. I've seen them once since then, they came to visit me and take a statement and stuff once the city got involved and I got assigned a social worker again.

But that's not even the best part, Cas. I mean, what happened to me is fucking crazy and insane and psycho on so many levels, but as it turns out. I'm not. I'm not crazy and I don't have a diagnosis and I honestly only go to any of the groups here because Maggie is hot. If it weren't for her I would probably just hang out in my room all day and play video games whenever Ash or Dean aren't busy."

"How are you here if you aren't crazy, Charlie?" Cas ask, shaking his head in confusion and causing Dean to sputter slightly beside him when his messy hair hit the other man in the face.

His reaction made Dean stand up and scrub a hand over his face which shouldn't have made his heart soar only when the other man finished scratching over his stubble there were two hands on Castiel's shoulders instead of just one and they were kneading the muscles softly just like they had in his dream and yea, Cas was about to fucking have a heart attack from how amazingly arousing that was. It was so much better in real life than it had been in his dream.

"Have you ever seen me take any pills?" the redhead asked him, arching her eyebrow at the face he must be making as he fought to control how on fucking board his body was right now with the thought of Dean leaning down and kissing him; even though his mind was screaming that that would be taking things too far and that wasn't something he could come back from ever Cas still wanted it to happen more than he had ever wanted much else in his entire life. "I'm not here because I'm depressed or have multiple personality disorder or anything. You wanna know what was causing me to hear voices and be paranoid and shit?"

"Are we done with the dramatic build up, Charlie?" Dean asked teasingly behind him, the tone of his voice causing Castiel to grip harder onto the pillow in his lap and press it tightly into his lap in an effort to make his erection disappear from just sheer force of will alone. Unfortunately, the pressure on his over-sensitive member had the opposite effect, making it twitch and pulse expectantly in his jeans because finally it was getting some attention; attention that caused him to gasp and caused Dean's hands to still on his shoulders.

 _No, don't stop touching me,_ Castiel pleaded in his head, biting his lip hard to keep any more noises from escaping as he schooled his features into one of curiosity over Charlie's story. After a second Dean's hands started moving again and Cas relaxed back enough into the touch that Charlie stopped looking at him funny and started talking again.

"I had fucking Lyme disease," Charlie said, her eyes wide like Castiel knew what the diagnosis was supposed to mean at all. "It's this like infection that is caused by ticks and I got bit by one while I was living in that rat-infested, hell hole of an apartment. Most people get like a rash and stuff or they have health insurance so when they start having symptoms they go to the doctor, but I didn't so when I started hearing voices at first I was just happy to hear my mom and dad again at all so I took whatever I could get. By the time it got bad enough for me to end up in the section of the paper where all the weird stories are posted, my symptoms looked like a mental illness.

A couple bazillion blood tests and a few rounds of antibiotics and I'm right back to the walking, talking sack of sarcasm that you know and love today. But I was already admitted to the mental ward and by that time Deany-poo was back; Missouri thought it would be a good idea for him to have a roommate who he knew and felt safe around. Especially with that fucking psycho Alistair still being here from the last time you came, right Dean?"

Castiel felt Dean's hands tense on his shoulders, pressing harder into the muscles in a way that didn't exactly hurt, but let him know that Dean was more than aware of how much strength his hands actually held and was just holding himself back most of the time. He looked up at the other patient to see Dean giving Charlie a small shake of his head that he stopped mid-shake when he realized Cas was watching him. His stricken features melted into a lopsided grin and Castiel smiled in return, confused a bit about Dean's reaction, but maybe it was just something he didn't like to talk about.

"She's just been biding her time here until her social worker sorts out her living situation," Dean explained, not answering Charlie's question at all as he continued rubbing Castiel's shoulders. "But um…I guess that's what the interview for the halfway house is for now. Oh, hey did you ask your sister about her borrowing something?"

"Yea," Castiel sighed, not wanting to look away from Dean who was being framed by the fluorescent light above him just perfectly; maybe he could just stay her until his life was sorted out for him too. Maybe they would let him stay with Dean. "She said something about a pantsuit and Hilary Clinton, I'm only halfway convinced that she's joking though. You're probably going to end up with a dress or something, Charlie."

"I can rock a dress," Charlie mused, hopping up off the bed and bumping her shoulder into Dean's as she moved towards the door. "Or I can at least for long enough to pretend to be an adult for an interview. Thanks for that again, Cas. It means a lot that you're helping me out like that. Dean are you coming?"

"Oh," Dean said breaking eye contact with Castiel to look over at Charlie, his brow furrowing with confusion in what Cas was pretty sure the most adorable way he had ever seen. "Did I miss the big Cas reveal? Well, shit, I was pretty curious what your story was there man."

"Nope," the other girl answered quickly, peeking out into the hallway before ducking back into the room with a muttered curse. "We had an arrangement, don't worry your man of mystery is still a complete fucking mystery. But the bad news is that Missouri is headed this way guys, I'm gonna go see if I can stall her. The last thing you need is for her to see Dean coming out of this room, later boys."

Castiel jumped up off the bed when Charlie ducked out into the hallway, he could hear her overly cheerful voice catching Missouri midway down the hall and he shut the door to his bedroom slowly and quietly in order to avoid drawing the attention of the doctor who was in all likelihood looking for him this time so they could do some more bullshit soul searching into why he was here. He knocked his forehead softly on the door before he glanced over his shoulder at Dean who had turned to lean back against the bed frame, legs stretched out in front of him invitingly and an amused smirk on his face that Cas just wanted to eat up.

"I'm going to go change clothes," he said quickly, grabbing the pile he had made earlier off of his dresser and holding it in front of the noticeable erection that was surely tenting his pants before Dean could see it as he edged towards the bathroom door. "I'll uh…I'll just be a second, okay?"

Cas sidestepped into the small bathroom and leaned heavily against the sink for a second after shutting the door; there was no way he could jerk off now. Not with Dean right out there and only the door to the bathroom separating them. He had no problems with being quiet, but he was sure that even he wouldn't be able to mask the tell tale sounds of his hand sliding over his cock well enough that another man wouldn't know exactly what he was doing in here. This was so much easier to deal with at home when he could turn up his music and Meg wouldn't ask him why he was suddenly flushed after coming out of his rom.

He peeled his shirt over his head, dropping it distractedly onto the floor as he tried to negotiate the zipper of his jeans over his erection without catching it on the stretched fabric of his boxers underneath. Cas sighed in relief when he cock finally sprang free, debating his whole decision not to masturbate all over again when he wrapped his hand around it and gave it a stroke through the thin material of his boxers only to let out a muffled groan at the sudden surge of want that coursed through him., but no. Dean was right there for fuck's sake.

So he just pulled his new set of clothes on as quickly as he possibly could, tucking his erection as tightly against his thigh as he possibly could so that maybe it wouldn't be so damn noticeable before casting an appraising look over his lower half to make sure that it didn't look strange or bulge in weird places. No, maybe it would just go away on its own like it usually did; the last thing he wanted to do was scare Dean off by his body's random reactions to everything.

Only maybe they weren't so random anymore, I mean, Cas hadn't gotten excited while holding Charlie's hand and looking at other men on the ward just made him feel friendly type feelings or empty like he did around the people he knew at home. Maybe it was just Dean, maybe his body was just ahead of his mind and had been this whole time when he had been feeling safe and comfortable around the other patient. Maybe he liked Dean more than he already should if he was hoping to not get too attached.

"Well, fuck me." Cas cursed, ripping open the door to the bathroom after slipping his shoes back on to find Dean sitting right there on the edge of his bed facing towards him. And yep, if the dumbfounded expression on his face was anything to go by then the other man had just heard Castiel's declaration, loud and clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm going out of town this weekend and finished this in a hurry without proofreading it again. I know I always have some mistakes, but this one might have more than my sadly betaless self usually catches so I apologize for that now. Feel free to shower me with your thoughts, I go where most fangirls fear to go; to a place where shipping is met with the response "Like with boats?" However, I will get to see the most adorable baby ever today so that makes up for it and there may be cute baby spam all over my social media, I'll apologize for that too.


	17. Chapter 17

Okay, so Cas wasn't totally sure of how Dean had taken what he had just heard him say. He couldn't read minds after all, but still. He knew how he would've taken it if Meg had walked out of the bathroom when he knew she had just been naked or whatever and said "Fuck me." Even if it was more a curse she was directing at herself, his dick still would've shot to attention just like it did anytime he started to think that he had a chance with his roommate's girlfriend.

But if Dean's startled expression, mouthing dropping open into a surprised 'O' and green eyes widening at Castiel who had frozen in the doorway of the bathroom that he had just finished changing clothes in, was anything to go by…well, Cas was pretty sure he wasn't inspiring the same sort of insta-boners in the other man that Dean had been inspiring for him. If anything, Dean looked afraid and it made Cas wonder if his habit of talking to himself as he reasoned out a problem was a curse or just something that God thought he deserved for being the terrible person that he obviously was.

"Dean, I didn't mean—"Castiel started, verbally backpedalling as fast as he possibly could because who else screwed up shit this fast with someone besides him?

"Cas, no," Dean said quickly, rising to his feet and crossing his arms tightly over his chest, muscles jumping under the fabric of the blue cardigan that Castiel had given him like he was fighting all of his instincts to run away from the suddenly awkward turn their interaction had taken. He was breathing heavily and his eyes had started to dart around the room like he was looking for an escape. "Nonono, I know you didn't mean it like that. Just…fuck! Give me a sec, Cas."

Castiel felt terrible, letting the hand that he had reached out to try to comfort Dean and keep him here with him falling limply to his side when the other man flinched away from him and folded in even tighter on himself. Dean turned his back on Cas and he could see the other man's shoulders shaking. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch him; maybe hug him again like he had after Dean had been fighting with his dad, but he didn't know how welcome that would be right now and he had promised Charlie that he would let Dean take the lead in whatever this was between them so he waited.

He waited until the muscles in Dean's back started unclenching, until he could visibly see the tension and fear eking out of the other man slowly and it was only when Dean nodded a little bit that he realized that Rufus was awake and muttering something to the other patient low enough that he couldn't hear it from across the small room. Whatever it was helped though and Castiel made a mental note to figure out something nice he could to for the older man to repay him, maybe find something that interested Rufus enough to give him an excuse to get out of bed.

Dean let out a sigh and scrubbed a hand through his hair, rolling his shoulders like they were sore from the adrenaline that Cas had almost been able to see pumping through the other man's veins. His fingers twitched with the desire to knead the firm muscles of Dean's neck and shoulders like the other man had just been doing to him, but he wasn't entirely certain that he wouldn't get punched. So he fisted his hands into the material of his jeans instead and tried to school his features into a mask of bland neutrality when Dean turned around. Every part of his head was screaming at him, saying he had fucked this up and asking why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut and telling him he should just resign himself to being alone forever because apparently he was just as hopeless with guys as he was with girls and why was this even his life?

Cas knew that he mask was failing though when Dean smiled contritely at him, just one arm crossed over his chest now and holding the elbow of the other as he blushed all the way to the tips of his ears and dropped his eyes to the scuffed boots he was wearing. He knew that the mask was failing because seeing Dean smile, even just a little bit, left him breathless and that had to be _so_ totally attractive. Why did he have to be such a walking disaster all the time?

"I'm sorry, Cas." Dean said, glancing up at him again before taking a slightly shuffling step forward and then looking down at his feet again with a grimace. "I um…I know you didn't mean 'fuck me' like…um that. It was just the phrasing reminded me of… um, someone and I wasn't expecting it. You weren't even talking to me, right?"

Castiel started to answer, but Dean wasn't exactly listening to him. The other man was taking edging, hesitant steps towards the closed bedroom door and Cas felt like something was about to break in him as the other man continued to talk.

"I mean, of course you weren't, right?" Dean said with a bitter sounding chuckle and a stiff shrug of his shoulders. "And then I freaked out and now you probably realized just how crazy I actually am like everyone else and I get it, man. I totally do. Who wants to deal with a basket case liking them? So I'm just going to go and um…we can forget about th—"

"I like you too," Castiel said quickly, cutting off Dean who had started to reach for the door handle; still not looking at him or talking much louder than the rambling mumble he had been speaking in since calming down enough to face him.

Dean stopped, jaw tightening when it snapped shut with an audible clash of teeth. Was that supposed to be a good sign?

"I mean, I thought you already knew that," Cas continued awkwardly, the silence in the room seemed like it was pressing down on him and Dean still wasn't looking at him and fuck maybe he had been misreading this entire thing. Maybe bros just put their hands on other bros knees every now and then and him getting a boner over it was just another reason why he was a freak. "I just…I have no idea what I'm doing here, honestly."

The other man scoffed and rolled his eyes, but there maybe was a smile tilting up the corners of Dean's mouth, if Cas squinted. And his green eyes had settled on a spot that was somewhere just above his left shoulder if he had to guess, but maybe that was just him being hopeful. Maybe he and Charlie were both completely wrong about Dean and all of this was just them reading to many romance and fantasy books.

"Glad to know I'm not the only one who's lost," Dean mumbled, finally dropping his gaze to meet Cas's and smiling shyly. Yep, that was his heart, beating out of his chest. Right there. "Also kind of nice to know that I'm not just making up crushes for no reason, like…I thought there might be something…there. With us, but I wasn't sure."

"There's something," Castiel assured the other patient quickly, glancing at Rufus who had grumbled something to himself that sounded vaguely like 'morons' before rolling over in his bed and turning his back towards both him and Dean. "I mean…a crush? Probably…"

"Maybe," Dean agreed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and licking his lips self-consciously. "I mean…hopefully not _just_ that y'know? But um…can I try something, Cas?"

Holy Mother of Mary.

Did Dean want to kiss him? Yea, he had literally just been fantasizing about it less than fifteen minutes ago, but it was abstract and not something that he had thought would actually be offered to him. Surely Dean would realize what a giant dork he was before it got to the point that the other patient wanted to do anything more than maybe hold hands. Cas had already been fully prepared to jerk off to just the feeling of Dean's hand on his knee and if kissing Dean in real life was anything like it had been in his dream he was pretty sure that he would spontaneously combust. Not that anyone would miss him because its not like even his roommates had noticed he wasn't there since he had been locked up in LICH, but still. He'd hate to inconvenience someone with all of the paperwork that would probably entail.

He nodded, feeling as if he was watching the movement happen from somewhere outside his body. Dean took a cautious step towards him, letting go of the elbow that he had been holding onto this entire time and reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder when he moved in close. Their chests were almost touching, but the only contact he really had with the other patient was where Dean's hand was lightly resting half on his shoulder and half on his neck.

The feeling of the other man's warm, cautious touch against his skin was almost enough to make him come undone right then, but he fought to control how badly he wanted to shake apart because he didn't want to make the wrong move and upset Dean again. And his mouth felt really dry, like there wasn't enough liquid in the world to possibly make the actual act of kissing him appealing for anyone no matter how much they liked him. Cas should just bail on this right now; run away or make an excuse to get out of this because the last thing he wanted to do was see the disappointed look on Dean's face when he realized how unsexy and inexperienced he actually was.

He was about to say something when Dean leaned in closer to him, putting his other hand around Castiel's back and pulling him in tightly enough that their chests bumped together and Dean let out a startled sounding huff of air. It was about that time that he closed his eyes, because even though he felt like he should be objecting to all of this if only for the simple fact that if Dean kissed him right now it was probably going to be the worst kiss to ever go down in recorded history, Cas's body was still entirely willing to let this happen. He tilted his head a little and waited in the darkness behind his eyelids to feel Dean's perfect, plush lips pressed against his own perpetually chapped ones.

But he wasn't expecting Dean to just pull him fully into a hug, running both of his hands down and around his waist until Cas had no choice but to let go of the death grip that he had had on his pant legs and slide his own arms around Dean's shoulders as the other man settled his face into the crook of Castiel's neck. He angled his hips away from Dean as subtly as he could, in theory he could handle a hug. But apparently putting the gesture into practice with another warm body especially a warm body that actually wanted to hug him and maybe possibly had more explicit type feelings for him made him so hard that he was pretty sure he couldn't hide it from Dean if they got any closer to each other.

Cas opened his eyes and watched his hands skimming lightly over the taunt muscles of Dean's back, mirroring the tentative movements of the other patients hands on his own that he couldn't see, but could sure as hell feel. The press of Dean's palms into his lower back and the way his fingers dipped into the exaggerated curve of his shoulder blades and how they skirted back down his spine like the other man was scared that Castiel was about to tell him to stop. Dean didn't know that Cas couldn't have told him to stop even if he wanted him to; holding Dean earlier had been nice, but this was different…comfortable, safe. _Electric._

"I didn't get to really feel this earlier," Dean said softly into the curve of his jaw and Jesus Christ, did he just feel stubble? Castiel was pretty sure he had just felt the rough rasp of stubble against his neck before Dean pressed his face into his collarbone and let out a contended sigh. "And I didn't thank you either, for y'know…helping me through that."

"Anytime," Castiel managed to croak out, earning a chuckle from Dean that he felt reverberating in his sternum because of how well they fit together. "I mean…I didn't like seeing you so upset, but if you need me…"

"I knew what you meant, Cas," Dean murmured, drawing in a deep breath just to let out another sigh that if anything made Cas feel like all of his bones were melting because he was so happy and this was so amazing and a kiss just would have ruined it. He wouldn't have been able to handle kissing another guy, as much as he may want Dean so badly that it made his teeth ache he just couldn't be that person. Not when he had so much lose waiting for him outside of the hospital. "This is okay though, right?"

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_ Castiel thought, letting out a disbelieving snort that caused all of the muscles in Dean's shoulders to suddenly tense under his hands.

"This is more than okay," Cas said quickly, rubbing the heel of his palm firmly into the bunched up trapezeus muscles at the base of Dean's neck until he felt the knots of fear begin to work themselves out of the other man's body. God, he hated that he had been the one to do that to Dean…again, in less than five minutes. Why did he ruin everything he touched? "I really like this actually, how long do you think it will be until someone notices that we're missing?"

Dean barked out a laugh at that, his hands gripping the material of Castiel's t-shirt briefly before he pulled back far enough that Cas would see the way his green eyes were sparkling happily and dreamily at him. They were almost the same height and their faces were so close that if they stayed just like this for a while then he could get a jump on counting all of those freckles that he had been obsessing about, but the part of him that was floating just outside of his body told him that eventually they would have to let go of each other. Nothing this wonderful lasted forever, at least not for him.

"I wish I could say that we'd be okay until lunch, but…" Dean joked, ducking his head shyly and biting his lip before he reluctantly started to move away.

Castiel's heart gave an uncomfortable, panicky lurch in his chest and he tried to write off the soft noise of protest that he didn't mean to make as a cough, but he was pretty certain that he hadn't fooled Dean in the slightest because the other man just chuckled and leaned into Cas's neck again before finally stepping away from him. _Smooth, real fucking smooth._ Dean's hands lingered on his waist for a second longer than they probably needed to though, so maybe he hadn't come off as such a spaz after all.

He wasn't sure what to do with his hands after letting go of Dean; they felt heavier than they had a couple of minutes ago before The Hug. That was going to be the way he forever thought about it, capitalized like a proper noun; like it was the name of something important and monumental like The Empire State Building. Small schoolchildren everywhere would take field trips where they would talk about this moment when Castiel Shurley almost passed as cool for a whole thirty seconds. He almost wished he had more than just the smell of Dean's cologne on his shirt and the fading warmth that had been left by the other man's chest pressed against him to remember this by, but with any luck it wouldn't be the only time he got to hug Dean.

"So do you think it's just a crush then?" Dean asked, glancing up at him from underneath his eyelashes before biting his lip again and shaking his head at himself; like he hadn't meant to ask Castiel that. "I mean…you aren't going to hurt my feelings or anything, but I think it might be…um more than that, for me, so...yea."

Maybe it was the endorphins talking or maybe it was how dreamlike and unreal everything that had happened to him since being admitted to the hospital felt, but suddenly Cas didn't feel so confused and scared about how he felt about Dean. It was probably never going to be more than just this, this close contact and safety that he had inexplicably found with a stranger in a psych ward and he would never even be able to begin to explain the whole thing to his family or to Meg and Balthazar.

But he wasn't going to have to since the likelihood of any of them actually caring enough to notice that he had feelings for another guy were slim to exactly fucking none so that made this okay; the quick answering nod that he gave. The fact that no one but him and Dean and maybe Charlie who had obviously been playing matchmaker this whole fucking time without him realizing it would have to know about it helped him smile at Dean as he did it. The only label that mattered here was the one that had his diagnosis on it; no one else had to know about whatever he did to make this all bearable. No one had to know about Dean as long as he came out the same, focused, driven person he had been when he came in here.

No one had to know. It could be his forever, indulgent secret that helped him get through the rest of his miserable life with just the memory of Dean's smile and his freckles and his amazing, iridescent eyes. Surely, Dean would come to his senses before too long. Cas just hoped the other man would look back just as fondly on his memories of him as Cas one day expected to look back on the time he had with Dean, however short it ended up being.

"I think it's more than that for me too," He answered softly, pushing his glasses back up his nose where they had slipped just a bit while he had been watching his hands move on the other man's back.

Dean's smile was dazzling and Cas was too overwhelmed by it to catch himself when the other man suddenly pulled him into another tight hug that pressed them together from chest to knee, hips molding together in a way that made hiding how hard he was impossible. Castiel felt his breath catch in his throat when Dean stiffened suddenly in his arms before letting out the same startled sounding huff that he had the first time they had hugged and burying his face in Cas's neck again. He cautiously allowed himself to return the embrace, putting one of his hands on the nape of Dean's neck and the other on his hip while trying his very best to not let out the whimper that was clawing its way out of his throat as he pushed the other man away from him just a bit so that he didn't have the warm pressure of Dean's pelvis against his own.

Dean let out a noise of protest that made Castiel feel just a bit less like a dork over the similar noise he had made earlier, but refused to let Cas completely end the embrace. He nuzzled his face in tighter and yep, there was no mistaking the sharp scratch of the stubble that the other patient hadn't shaved off that morning and Cas just wanted to die. Not in the same way that he had wanted to die when he had been staring at the East River, not at all. It was more of a nothing-will-ever-measure-up-to-how-great-this-moment-is-so-I'd-be-fine-having-a-heart-attack-from-joy-right-now kind of wanting to die.

"I can't remember the last time I hugged someone," Dean mumbled, the warm, wet feeling of the other man's breath against his neck making him shiver and tighten the grip he had on Dean's hip just a little bit before Cas realized that he had done it.

"I've seen you hug Charlie," Castiel corrected, moving his hand out of the danger zone and up to the small of Dean's back. Hips were not safe, hips made him think of things that he couldn't have and could barely picture himself doing with anyone let alone another guy.

"Charlie's not a dude, unless she's been lying to me our entire friendship," Dean replied, Castiel imagined he could feel the other patient's lips brushing over his skin, but that was probably just his raging libido and not something that would ever actually happen. "And if that's true then Missouri's going to have to deal with some serious backsliding in our one-on-ones."

Cas frowned in confusion, stepping back so that he could see Dean's face as he tried to figure out exactly what it was that the other man was saying to him. Yea, the hugging and the admitting that they had a mutual 'like-like' for each other felt important, monumental even, but he had almost convinced himself that it was all in his head; that there was no way that Dean could feel like this was as life-changing as he did. But thinking back over the last couple of days and everything that he had learned about the other man, all of the interactions that he had seen Dean have with other people….

"Dean, do you not tou—"

"Castiel, darlin'?" Missouri's voice called through the door, causing Cas to take a quick jump back from Dean as the other man sucked in a sharp gasp and turned away from him, presumably to look for a place to hide; which was exactly the same thing that Cas was looking for. "You ready for your therapy session?"

"I'm changing!" He called, shrugging in a 'What?' gesture when the other man's eyes widened at him in disbelief. Like was going to strip down right there or something just to make his story believable, not likely. Cas lowered his voice and waved the other man towards the bathroom. "Go! In there, hurry up."

Dean scrambled towards the small ensuite, moving faster that Castiel had ever seen anybody move and he only just managed to catch the other man's hand before he started to shut the door. Green eyes softened as they met his and Dean's smirk made his heart flutter in his chest.

"I'll see you later, Cas. Unless…I've scared you off?" Dean whispered, winking at him conspiratorially even though the way his voice shook just a little bit betrayed the fact that the question was less of a jest than he had been intending for it to come off as.

"As soon as I'm done with her, I'll find you," Castiel promised, giving Dean's hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go and pushing lightly against the other man's chest to get him to shut the door. "Just, shit, ignore my clothes everywhere and be quiet or we'll both get in trouble."

"Duh. I guess I'll just do your laundry while I'm in here then, sweetheart." Dean muttered sarcastically and Cas saw the eye roll right before the other man shut the door, it only made him smile harder.

Missouri must have noticed it though; the sudden change in his demeanor, because the concerned look she was wearing when he opened the door was immediately replaced by squinty-eyed suspicion. Maybe she had been around Dean too long or maybe his smiling looked just as weird on his face as it felt. But either way, she gave his room a cursory glance over his shoulder. Cas prayed that Dean at least hadn't turned on the bathroom light or anything that she might notice as being out of the ordinary before she lopped his arm through hers and started to drag him down the hallway; muttering about how she was going to have to start working overtime because something was going on here, she wasn't sure what, but it was something.

All Castiel could do was feign confusion and try to fight the smile that kept creeping onto the corners of his mouth. He was fighting a losing battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the last couple of ones, I promise there will be more character reveals and Dean backgroundy stuff in the next one. Also, who loves Benny? I love Benny, expect to see him popping up soon. xoxo!


	18. Chapter 18

"Let's talk about your family," Missouri said without preamble, catching Castiel where he was still happily ensconced in the cloudy hazy warmth of Dean's arms at least in his head completely off guard.

He froze where he was shutting the door to her office and tried to will away the panicky, swooping lurch that his heart had given at her words in order to hold on to how the other patient's strong arms had enveloped him and made him feel like he was enough to make someone else happy, even if he couldn't make himself happy. But the panic was winning out and he could feel the warm glow that had been left in his chest fading as he turned slowly to face the therapist. Missouri was already sitting behind her desk, elbows on top of the cluttered surface with her fingers steepled underneath her chin and a calculating expression on her face.

Cas let out a heavy breath and made his way towards the green arm chair that he had sat in the day before, pausing when the drawing that resembled Dean's so much caught his eye again. He knew he shouldn't ask, because something about the way Missouri was looking at him was giving him the disconcerting feeling that she already knew about every single less than platonic thought he had had about Dean and that she did not approve in the slightest. He knew that she couldn't have possibly seen or heard Dean in his room, but the feeling of her knowing exactly what they were hiding from her and just being generally amused by their paltry attempts to keep it from her did nothing to make Castiel believe that he was actually the 22 year old son of a famous author instead of just a lust addled teenager who couldn't control himself.

"Did Dean draw that?" Castiel asked, hooking his thumb at the small, smoke stained portrait.

"No," Missouri answered slowly, waiting a beat as she filed away how Cas's shoulders dropped in defeat and he shook his head in confusion before adding, "But he did give it to me."

"Why?" He asked, biting his lip as soon as he said it because the therapist quirked an amused eyebrow at him and shifted to settle back more comfortably in her seat with her arms crossed over her desk. "I-I mean, it's just a nice drawing. Dean draws so I thought that maybe he—"

"Is there something going on with you and Dean, Castiel?" Missouri asked gently, cutting him off in the nicest way possible while still making him feel like a kid who had just been sent to the principal's office for doing something bad.

"NO!" Castiel said quickly, seeing the flash of disappointment in her eyes before she blinked and it was gone, replaced by the same motherly softness that made his heart ache. Why did all the women who worked here look at him like that? "Or um...yes? I don't know, we're just friends really…."

What was he supposed to say? We're just friends who like each other, but we can never be more because the idea of coming out to my whole family scares the ever-loving shit out of me? It was the truth, one that he was only now acknowledging to himself now that Missouri had posed the question. Castiel was certain that the therapist would have a field day with that whole host of issues which was why he decided to trail off and direct his gaze towards the potted plants on her window sill instead of meeting the penetrating gaze that he was sure she was leveling at him.

"Did you know that I have no children of my own, Castiel?" Missouri asked quietly her voice sounding sad enough that he risked glancing at the therapist only to see that she wasn't looking at him at all, but at a small framed picture that had its back turned towards the armchair that he was sitting in. "It just wasn't in the cards for me and some people might be bitter about that, but I've always thought that fate had other ideas for me. Not bigger plans, but a different way to better the lives of young people besides being a parent."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked softly, watching as she set the picture back down carefully before letting out a heavy sigh and turning it towards him so that he could see it.

"You see those boys in that picture?" Missouri began, pointing at the frame that held an old photo of two little boys standing on the steps of the Museum of Natural History wearing late 90s windbreakers and matching fanny packs along with twin looks of excitement on their smiling faces. One was taller and had his arm looped lazily around the shoulders of the shorter one who had shaggy brown hair and a was clutching a large grey model airplane in his hands; the whole setup looked vaguely like the kind of photo his parents used to force him and his siblings to take when they went on family outings or vacations. There was one particularly embarrassing one of him mimicking a teenaged Michael asking Peter Pan to marry him at Disneyland when they had gone on a book signing tour with their father; Castiel just nodded in reply to the therapist's question.

"That is from the one time that Dean and Sam came to visit me before their mother, my best friend, died in a house fire." Missouri finished, spinning the picture back to face her with a sad lingering look at the two small smiling faces of the boys. "Dean was ten and Sam had just turned six, John was visiting his mother in Queens when it happened. He was on the volunteer fire department in their hometown, the news hit him pretty hard."

"Is that why he's here? Dean?" Castiel asked breathlessly, not wanting to break whatever spell it was that was causing the therapist to talk so openly with him about another patient. There were probably laws or something, Hippocratic Oaths that she was supposed to be following, but he wasn't sure how much she would actually tell him anyway; he wanted to know everything.

"That is a conversation that he will have to have with you," Missouri replied calmly, startling him with how quickly her fond expression became fierce when she looked up at him from the picture on her desk. "IF he chooses to have it with you, you hear me? Considering what you now know about me and Dean and how long I've been in that fool headed boy's life, you'll understand if what I have to say next teeters on the verge of unprofessional, but if it bothers you I will gladly recommend that the remainder of your treatment here is handled by one of the other therapists. Dr. Mills from the young adult unit is very qualified and I'm sure you would like her, but Castiel if you are just messing with Dean's head...well, let's just say that you will be the first person to learn just how unprofessional I can get about the Winchesters. Do you understand me?"

Castiel nodded dumbly, unable to decide if he was flattered or terrified that Missouri had just given him the very first shovel talk of his Gabe talk about the one he had gotten from Kali's father had left him with the distinct impression that dating someone wasn't worth the trouble if it meant being castrated was a anywhere in the cards, but then again his own dad had never done more than look sternly at the few boys who had wanted to take Anna out on dates and warn them that 10pm was his younger sister's curfew and not a minute more.

He had only seen quiet or heard horror stories about threats; Missouri was coming out of left field with her sober strength that showed concern not just for Dean who she obviously cared about, but also for him, a stranger, who was in her charge. Cas didn't know if he wanted to hug her and thank her for not judging him for being so unsure of himself or run away because she was telling him it was okay for him to be unsure and frankly that level of understanding scared him almost as much as admitting to himself that he wanted something more with Dean did.

"Great," Missouri said, pulling a file folder out from underneath her office phone and flipping it open. "Now would you like to continue talking about your family today? Or I can call Dr. Mills to setup a time for you to meet her later if you would like to speak with her instead."

He trusted her and as much as it worried him that he seemed to be finding more friends in a mental institution than he had outside of it, Cas was willing to suspend his disbelief if Missouri was able to figure out why his life had been slipping away from him for so long and help him get enough of it back that maybe he could not be such a mess for Dean. If Dean wanted him to continuing not being a mess for him that is. Shit, maybe they should have more of a talk beyond 'liking' each other.

"Um...I'm adopted," Castiel started hesitantly in lieu of an answer, wincing with embarrassment when he remembered that Missouri already knew that, but her face was judgement free and she just smiled softly until he continued. "Yea, um all of my siblings are too. My mom or my dad, I'm not sure which, couldn't have kids, but they always wanted them and they figured that there were a lot of kids who didn't have families so its my brothers and me and my sister."

"And you've never wondered about your birth parents?" Missouri asked, picking up a pen and making an idle mark on his file.

"Of course I wondered," He admitted, rubbing a hand over his face before he realized that the smell of Dean's cologne still clung faintly to his skin from where he had hugged the other man. It was comforting and not enough all at the same time. "What kid doesn't? I mean, it's not like my parents hid it from any of us that we're adopted, but none of the others ever asked about there's so I didn't either."

"Tell me more about your siblings."

"Well, Gabe came on Sunday but you weren't here to see him, he's very...colorful. A chef, you've probably seen his cooking show if you watch The Food Network at all and sometimes he's on the Today Show pretending he has a crush on Matt Lauer. It's all a publicity stunt but he's like that, always liked to be the center of attention when we were kids, but he is a good brother. My parents adopted him when he was a baby," Castiel didn't add that Gabriel could be scary and protective when he had a reason to be and had saved him from getting beat up more than once after that unforgettable first time when no one had come to save him from the assholes at school who thought he was a weird homo; if only they could see him now.

"Michael is the oldest and he probably won't come and see me while I'm here. He's very busy, very important. Does a whole bunch of charity work and stuff because of how he saw people getting treated in high school, oldest child syndrome, y'know? Perfect son with perfect grades and grew up to be the perfect adult, but it suits him. I couldn't imagine him being anything other than what he is and he really is the only one of my siblings that I look anything like so it's almost like we're a normal family."

"Was that your sister who came to see you yesterday then? Dark hair?" Missouri asked, smiling wryly at his description of his brothers as she made a note in his file about 'normal families'. "She seemed very nice, very willing to tell you what you needed to hear and not what you wanted to hear. That's a good quality to have in a family member, otherwise you end up with enablers. I can not begin to tell you how much extra work enablers create for me. Not all families realize how much of a help it can be to someone in recovery to have a support system, you're very lucky."

"Yea, I guess I am, but um...that was Kali actually, she's my future-sister I guess." Cas explained, wondering just what kind of support systems someone like Charlie who had no one had even though she didn't really need to be here or Dean who just had John who didn't seem very supportive and Sam who had run away when his brother needed him. Maybe he really was lucky to still have the rest of his family even though his mom wasn't around. "She and my brother Gabriel just got engaged or like have been engaged for a while and I just found out about it. I don't know it's all really confusing. My sister is named Anna and she's this red-headed slip of a thing who dances ballet. Real foul mouth on her, don't know where the fuck she got it from."

Missouri let out a real laugh at that, which was sort of what Castiel was going for because the room had started to feel oppressive while he was talking about his siblings. Part of him just wanted to list every single last one of their accomplishments for the other woman because he was damn proud of them, but another part wanted to downplay just how fantastic the other three Shurley children were so that he could delay the moment when the therapist figured out just how ordinary he was by comparison. Surely she wouldn't want someone so...plain to be around Dean.

"Don't think I don't know what you did there," Missouri said, wiping away the moisture from the corners of her eyes as her laughter turned to chuckles. "And its called deflection. Do you often use humor to change the direction of a conversation when it starts making you uncomfortable?"

Cas felt like he had just been hit with a freeze ray, like if he moved or breathed the wrong way his whole careful facade of self-deprecating wit would fall away like icles losing their grip on the edge of an exceptionally steep roof. It was easy to avoid conversations like this at home, when he could use the excuse of homework and everyone was so busy with their own shit anyway to notice that his lame jokes were really just a way to get someone to laugh enough that they forgot what they had been talking about. In his experience, most people weren't listening anyway, just waiting on their turn to speak; distract them with a joke or something shiny and the thread of the conversation could be changed to something safer, like school.

"I'm told that I'm very funny, if that's what you mean," he replied weakly, shooting for another joke and missing by a mile if the sharp arch of Missouri's eyebrow was anything to go by. God he was so royally fucked.

"Hmmm," the therapist mused, setting her pen down carefully beside on her desk before she leaned back in her seat with a creak. "You're brothers and sister sound very accomplished, after speaking with your father this morning I'm inclined to think that the entire Shurley clan is just talented beyond all reason. A father who writes, a mother who paints, children who excel in whatever they put their minds to. Tell me, do you have a dog who juggles, Castiel? Because at this point not much would surprise me."

"My mom was allergic to dogs, so we're more of a cat family," Castiel explained softly, wishing they could be talking about anything other than how great his family was. He loved them, but it was just a reminder of how much he didn't deserve to be part of a family that was so wonderful when he so obviously wasn't. "So my dad told you he writes?"

"It was more me putting two and two together," Missouri said with a shrug, hefting his backpack up onto the desk where she pulled out the copy of his dad's latest book that had been in there for at least the last two semesters when he had told himself that he would find time to read it between classes, but reading anything else because he didn't want to see the familiar dedication to his mom that was in every single one of his dad's books. "Your father said he was a writer and you don't have any other books in your bag that aren't school related so I figured you were keeping this one around for more sentimental reasons."

"Damn me wearing my heart on my sleeve," Castiel deadpanned, picking a phrase that Meg so often used to describe herself when she was crying about something that Balthazar had said that hurt her feelings. He had never really understood what she meant by that phrase since he purposely kept his heart behind lock and key and barricade so that she would never ever suspect that he loved her, but still; it seemed like the phrase applied to this situation.

"It's actually a really good book," Missouri said setting it back down beside his bag. "Different from everything else he's written, darker."

"You should do reviews for the New York Times," Castiel replied, craning his neck so that he could glance at the clock that was hidden amongst the photos and the drawings that covered Missouri's walls. "Because they went on some huge kick about existentialism and the plight of the Midwestern farmer. Truth is he did all the edits for it while my mom was dying. It had a much happier ending in the original version, my mom begged him to change it back but I think that he was bitter and writing was the only way he had to let that out without taking it out on us kids."

"That's a very astute observation, Castiel," the therapist said, tapping on her chin with one of her fingers for a second before her brow furrowed and she pointed an accusing finger at him. "Grief counseling? With your family, am I right?"

"About six sessions," Cas admitted guiltily, though really he had figured out the writing part for his dad about the same time that Gabriel started baking uncontrollably and Anna decided that she needed to incorporate more modern dance elements into her ballet routines. They had all gravitated towards doing the things they loved to help them feel better and he had just shut himself away with his textbooks, asked his teachers for extra coursework, and stopped sleeping; coping came in a lot of different shapes. "My older brother insisted that we go, Michael kind of took the lead on a lot of things after my mom died. Making sure the mortgage on the house got paid and that Anna had everything she need for school. Keeping Gabriel from blowing all of his money by investing it for him and pushing me to pick a major and stick with it. He's always been the organized and efficient one in the family; my mom used to say he was the only one of us without our head in the clouds."

"Well, your head seems pretty earthbound from what your father told me. Accounting major, wanting to go into business like your older brother, applying for internships this summer; those all sound like someone who is very driven and focused. You have a lot of things on your plate, Castiel. It's no wonder that you are stressed, if your only social outlet is school then its only a matter of time before the pressure gets to be too much. You knwo what they say, all work and no play..."

"If you can get all of the answers from my dad then talking to me is kind of a moot point, don't you think?" Castiel replied angrily when the therapist paused. Why had she even bothered asking him if she already knew everything about him and his family? What kind of game was she playing here?

"I want to hear your version of it," Missouri answered, locking eyes with him until he felt uncomfortable enough to look down at his lap. "But if you feel like this is all pointless then I won't force you to talk to me. We're not going to make any progress if you're only telling me what you think I want to hear."

"Can I go then?" Castiel asked, scooting to the edge of his chair so that he could rise to his feet. "De-someone is waiting on me and I kind of wanted to catch anger management before it ended."

"If that's what you feel like you need to do," Missouri stated simply, making a dismissive gesture towards his backpack that was still sitting on her desk. "There's your homework if you would like to take that with you too."

"You're just going to let me take all of it?" Castiel asked warily, reaching for it before he realized that this was probably some sort of test. "After you kept it from me, now I can just walk out with it? What if I shut myself in my room and don't go to groups or meals or anything?"

"Well then, I guess I would just have to keep you until your time runs out and hope that you decide to work the program the way you're supposed to," Missouri said with a tired sigh. "But you told Maggie that your coping skill was studying and if that's true then I don't want to be the reason that you do something drastic because you have no other way to cope with your emotions. Unless there is something else you can think of that you can do? Or you want to keep talking?"

Cas hesitated, surely this was a trick; it had to be. But he couldn't figure out what Missouri's angle was and he did want to keep talking, just not about his family because it was making his chest all tight and achy. He had a feeling that she would push the subject though if she saw how hard it was for him and the last thing he wanted was to hate her for it when she was really just trying to do her job. It was better that he left now before everything just came spilling out of him and he couldn't close the floodgates fast enough to stop it all from washing her and Dean and his whole family away.

"I'll take one thing," He said softly, reaching for his bag and just watching dumbfounded when his hand landed on the copy of his dad's book instead; his fingers brushing softly over the raised lettering of the title on the dust jacket before he cleared his throat and picked it up to tuck it securely into the crook of his elbow. "We had a deal, if I talk I get one thing. Keep the rest I'll earn it back and uh...reading helps so...yea. I'm gonna go to group now."

"If Benny asks why you're late, just tell him that we were talking," Missouri said, giving him an understanding look as he headed towards the door. He stopped at the drawing again, turning towards her with the question already half-formed on his lips before she answered it. "Dean's mother drew it. Her studio was in their garage which was mostly spared from the fire, Dean gave it to me when they moved to Queens thought I should have it. He gets all of his talent from her."

"Yea," Cas agreed, slipping out the door as he spoke. "Um...I know."

Once he was outside the office, Castiel ducked his head and let out a shaky breath; the fight or flight instincts were screaming at him in his head telling him that he hadn't run far enough yet from the danger of what talking to Missouri might reveal. He stared at his feet and walked as quickly as he could towards the day area, hoping that no one would notice if he snuck in late to anger management and that Dean or someone had thought to save him a seat. He tried not to think about way that Missouri had talked to him about Dean like she could just look into his head and see all of the conflicted feelings that he had and didn't judge him for it like his own family surely would. How could a stranger care that much about him? How could he care that much for Dean already?

It wasn't until he bumped awkwardly into someone when he passed the nurse's station that Castiel realized that walking while looking at your feet was a sure way to end up on your ass. He apologized to a very irritated looking Dick who watching him with a murderous expression on his face and breathing deeply through his nose before continuing around the corner towards his original destination. Cas kept his eyes up this time, which was the only reason that he spotted Dean who had his back towards him before the other patient spotted him.

Dean was talking animatedly with someone else who was standing right outside the doorway to the day area with him. A man both taller and wider than the patient wearing a white Henley that was open at the collar and dark grey trousers who had short hair shot through with premature grey and a wide, friendly smile set into a neat beard. Whatever Dean was saying, it was making the other man happy because he was smiling like a kid presented with an ice cream cone; Castiel's heart stopped at the picture they made together.

Both of them were attractive and happy and carefree while he sat gazing enviously at them like some sallow little bridge troll, it was like seeing Meg with Balthazar only a million times worse because he had been ready to be brave enough to try with Dean. Even if it only lasted for a little while and Dean got tired of him before he left, he had a feeling that it would've been worth it just to play at being happy with the other man while they were both here. Maybe Dean was bored of him already, he didn't recognize the person that the other patient was talking to; what if Dean only liked him because he was new? Something shiny and naive enough to fall for the whole 'I haven't hugged in years' line? God, he was so fucking stupid.

He started to turn so that he could bolt as quickly as he could back to Missouri's office and have a meltdown with a health professional right there to make sure he didn't jump out of the closest unlocked window that he could find, but it was about that time the man that Dean was talking to spotted him and pointed him out for the other patient. Dean was smiling when he turned to face him, like a normal smile, but when he saw Cas his entire face lit up like he was watching the Fourth of July fireworks from the West Side Highway off the Hudson River and opening all of his Christmas presents and reliving every single one of his top five best birthdays all at once.

It was heartbreaking and breathtaking and made Castiel want to pull his hair out because there was no way that Dean could actually be looking at him like that; like the way that he knew he looked at Meg sometimes but only when she wasn't paying attention. Only Dean could see that he could see him and maybe that was the difference, the other patient wasn't afraid of getting rejected by everyone like Cas was. Maybe that was what made him so irresistible in the first place. Who the fuck was he kidding? Everything about Dean was irresistible.

"Yea, that's him," Dean said loud enough to the other man for Cas to hear, waving him over with a eye-crinkling smile and a wink. "Cas! C'mere, ya dork. He's real shy, Benny. But I promise he's a good guy."

Castiel walked cautiously over to the duo, shifting the hardback book that he was carrying so that he could clutch it to his chest over his heart that was beating double time in his chest just from Dean looking at him. Forget the fact that he wanted to introduce him to someone in his life like they were really a couple or something, just Dean looking at him was enough to make him feel those warm tingles all over his body that he had felt when they had been hugging. He was starting to think that if they ever did more than that he would probably spontaneously combust or die of a heart attack or something.

"Hello Dean," he mumbled, stepping up next to the other man and casting a hesitating look at the other patient until Dean just rolled his eyes and looped an arm around his shoulders. Oh Jesus, that was just what he needed in order to feel better; instantly relaxing into the other man's side as the newcomer watched them with shrewd ice-blue eyes. "Who is your new friend?"

"Cas this is Benny, Benny this is Cas," Dean said waving between the two of them as he did the introductions.

Benny stuck out a hand that Castiel was only mildly frightened to shake because it was so big and weathered looking, like a man's hand should look. His own were pale and bony, the long fingers nimble and strong when he used to play the piano; girlish and fragile looking by comparison though and he hoped that Dean didn't notice the difference when he shook the larger man's offered hand.

"Benny is the counselor for anger management," Dean explained, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze as Benny held Castiel's gaze; he couldn't decide if the other man was trying to intimidate him or not, but it was working just a bit nonetheless. "Which you missed all of by the way, just don't Hulk out on me or anything before Thursday when it rolls around again. 'Kay sweetheart? Also, Benny used to work here a long time ago. He was a little orderly underling like Garth."

"Awww, brother," Benny said, taking his hand back from Castiel so that he could cover his heart like he was wounded. "I am nothing like Garth, your ass didn't' get away with half of the shit that you do now on my watch. Benny LaFitte, Castiel. Good to meet you man, Dean's been yaaking my ear off about you all mornin'"

"Yea," Castiel replied, fighting back the grin that threatened to split his face when the other man said that Dean was talking about him. Something about all of this felt off, like Dean or Benny or both of them were holding themselves back now that he had joined them; he felt like an interloper to the _n_ th degree. "Funny, Dean has never said anything to me about you. But it's good to meet you, Barney was it?"

"Oh man!" Benny exclaimed, throwing his head back with a laugh before he reached out to punch Castiel lightly in the arm that wasn't pressed into Dean's own side as the other patient snickered behind his free hand. "You're feisty! I like him, Dean. Maybe he can keep up with your shenanigans or at least be the voice of reason when you start to get all stuck inside your head. Once you're both out we'll have to get a beer or something, talk sports and girls."

"I'm sure we could maybe talk about one of those things," Dean said, brushing his thumb idly across Castiel's collarbone as he spoke; causing a shiver to run down his spine that he really hoped Benny didn't notice. "I know enough about the Yankees to fake it at least, what about you Cas?"

"My family has a box suite," Castiel said with a shrug, eyeing Benny who was watching the two of them with a look of disbelief on his face; shaking his head as he finished suppressing his chuckles. "My brothers and I try to catch a couple of games together every year. Isn't it a little bit unethical to invite your patients out for drinks after you've treated them?"

"First, Dean you better keep this one or I will set him up with my cousin Eli just to keep access to those sweet box seats," Benny began, winking at Castiel conspiratorily when Dean started to protest beside him. "And second, the beauty of not being licensed yet is that you're technically Missouri's patients and I'm technically not breaking any rules by hanging out with you two as long as you don't rat on me. Also, I'm pretty good at keeping my counselor life separate from my best gay wingman life."

"We'll set something up, Benny," Dean promised, moving his hand until Castiel felt his warm fingertips on the part of his bicep just underneath his shirtsleeve; it was distracting and wonderful and he never wanted it to stop. "But um...don't you have some paperwork to do or something?"

"Right right," Benny agreed quickly, watching Dean's wandering hand with a soft smile on his face that Cas felt like he couldn't even begin to interpret. "I'll leave you two alone so you can...yea. Um see you guys on Thursday? Cas we'll talk baseball?"

He nodded at the larger man, watching as Benny excused himself and walked behind the nurse's station to commandeer the computer closest to the double doors that Garth usually liked to use simply because it was right next to the one that Jo liked to use when she was there. Jo was there now, eyeing Benny appreciatively as he settled in beside her with a flirtatious smirk that was entirely different from the ones that the other man had been leveling at Dean before Cas had walked up. It made the tightness in his chest ease even more for some reason and he found his arm closest to Dean snaking around the other man's waist before he even realized he was doing it.

"I was scared there for a second," Castiel muttered, nudging his glasses up using Dean's shoulder and stumbling just a little when the other man barked out a laugh and started tugging him down the hallway towards the rec room; away from all the prying eyes of the other patients who were starting to stare at them for standing so close.

"Yea, I could tell," Dean murmured, leaning in close so that his breath ghosted over the shell of Cas's ear . "You're really cute when you're jealous by the way. Your neck gets all red and splotchy and you're sarcastic as hell. It's fucking adorable."

"I'm not cute," Castiel argued, allowing Dean to pull him into the rec room where Charlie and Ash were already settled on the couch, elbowing each other as they played some racing video game. "Whoever told you I was cute is a goddamned liar."

"But you're not denying that you were jealous," Dean said teasingly, plopping down into the armchair and patting his knees in an invitation for Cas to sit in his lap.

It was tempting, but he was already half hard just from touching Dean and sitting in the other man's lap would just be too much contact and warmth that he wasn't sure he could handle without trying to kiss Dean or at least letting out a very wanton whimper. So he settled himself on the floor with his back against the chair next to Dean's legs as he carefully placed his book on the scarred coffee table that Ash had his feet propped up on.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that I was jealous, Mr. Winchester." Castiel offered, sighing in contentment when he felt the other man's fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. "You can keep doing that though, I like you touching my hair."

Castiel heard the chair creak behind him and felt the warmth of Dean's skin radiating against his own, but didn't turn his head. Scared that if he did he would lose what little self-control that was keeping him from climbing into Dean's lap and pulling him into a fast and messy kiss that would be so blindingly intense that he wouldn't even care if the world and his family and all the homophobic jocks from high school saw him with his tongue down another man's throat.

"Just so you know, Cas," Dean whispered low enough that Cas was pretty sure Ash and Charlie couldn't hear him over the screeching sound effects that were blaring out of the television. "I've been wanting to touch your hair since the first time I saw you."

Fuck, could his voice be any more huskier and sexy right now? Castiel bit his lip in an effort to keep the noise that would most definitely be a moan and not a whimper from spilling out of his mouth. God, he needed to go jerk off like right now or he was going to come in his pants just from the feeling of Dean's leg pressing into his side and the other man's fingers tangling gently into his hair. This was almost worse than the hug because it was something he could almost imagine them doing every day; Dean playing with his hair while he studied or Cas leaning into his side while the other man sketched. It was a fantasy that he couldn't have outside of here, but one that he wanted so desperately it made his heart ache even as his dick throbbed from the image of domesticity in his head.

"I've got to go," he declared brokenly, scrambling to his feet and heading towards the door before anyone could stop him. "Going to the bathroom, I'll be right back."

"You alright, Cas?" Dean called behind him and Castiel just gave him a thumbs up through the window as he rushed past towards his bedroom; praying that Rufus would be asleep or at least wouldn't judge him for what he was about to do.

Either way, Rufus couldn't say much; its not like the older man hadn't ever jerked off before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been almost a month since I updated this story, I suck. Life's been crazy with my computer breaking and then contemplating moving again and then family drama, but I promise to focus better from now on. Thanks for sticking with me and being awesome all the f'n time, you're all the wind beneath my wings. Deep in the Heart readers, that update is coming next and soon. :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: Brief discussion of past sexual abuse.**

"Your boyfriend cleaned up your mess for you after you left," Rufus grumbled to Castiel as he rushed into their shared bedroom, caught off guard by the fact that the older man was not only out of bed, but seemed to be gathering up things for a shower.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cas replied weakly, his palms immediately feeling sweaty from the lie and the resulting eye-roll that it earned from his roommate. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Boy who's a friend then," the other man replied wearily, rifling out a t-shirt from his own dresser and giving it an experimental sniff before shoving it into the rest of the messy bundle that he was carrying in the crook of one arm. "But let me tell you, my daughter used to use that line too and it never fooled me when it came from her either."

"I'm not trying to fool anyone," he argued, tugging down his shirt as he willed the other man to just leave already because this wasn't a conversation he was entirely sure he was ready to handle just yet. Plus he felt like he should be discussing it with Dean or someone in his family, not a stranger that he had ended up in a room with because of chance. All he had wanted to do was jerk off, not have some life-altering revelatory discussion about his sexuality, not yet at least.

Rufus just gave him a sad look and shook his head, striding purposefully through the door before seeming to shrink in on himself once he took his first step out into the hallway. His steps became more of a careful, awkward shuffle that made the house slippers that he was wearing shush softly on the linoleum as Castiel watched him edge out of sight toward the end of the hallway where the showers were. The older man was muttering curses under his breath about all the women on this ward always ganging up on him and Castiel felt like something really must be wrong with him if Rufus thought that he was the one who deserved pitying looks; he didn't want to hide how he was feeling about Dean, but he didn't know if he would ever be able to not hide.

Cas shook his head to get rid of the melancholy that was threatening to cloud out how nice it had felt to have Dean's arm wrapped comfortingly around his shoulders, how he had introduced him to Benny like he was someone important to him, how the other man's fingers had felt carding carefully through his hair, stronger and yet more tentatively than they had in his dream. Maybe it was that he hadn't had any genuine human contact for what had felt like years and maybe he was just someone who ended up being another notch in Dean Winchester's belt, but that was just a chance he was willing to take if it meant he could feel the safe, serene rightness about himself that he had only been able to find in the other man's smile.

Thinking of Dean made a rush of heat flare through him, settling low and heavy in his stomach with a dull throb that left him breathless and shaking with want. He wanted everything, so many things that he didn't even have a name for; things that scared him and made him question whether or not he had just been deluding himself his whole life because being around Dean with his quick laughter and his timid affections was the first thing that had made him feel right in his own skin in a very long time. Castiel rushed to shut the bedroom door before someone saw him standing in the middle of his room with a hard on the size of Mount Everest.

He pressed his back against the door and knocked his against the pressed fiberboard in a half-hearted effort to knock some sense back into his head; just because he was hard and maybe wanted...those things from Dean it didn't mean it was okay to make the other man the unwilling star of his fantasies. Fuck, no matter how much he may want to. His attraction to the other man had gotten him this far; on the verge of coming in his pants and practically shaking from the half formed images that filtered through his head of how Dean's fingers might feel tangled in his hair as they shared a messy, desperate kiss or how his hands would feel pressed against the other man's bare chest or how their hips had fit together so perfectly earlier when they had hugged before he had denied himself that not-so-innocent pleasure too.

Holy fuck, pressing the heel of his palm into his erection did nothing to make his mind stop racing; spurring him to just reflect later on the awkwardness that he was surely going to feel around Dean for doing this as he quickly grabbed the bottle of lotion that was at the front of his neat row of toiletries, the small bottle being something he had not even thought about needing since his older brother had brought him everything on Sunday. Cas had thought that Gabe was just being his normal self with his weirdly pragmatic approach to skincare that was borderline scary, but now he was just thankful that he had something that would help him make this quick before someone came looking for him.

Cas made a dash for the bed, settling down against the headboard with a pillow behind his back and the thin, hospital-issued topsheet thrown haphazardly over his thighs so that if someone walked in on him maybe he could pull it up fast enough that they wouldn't see what he was doing, not immediately at least. He allowed himself a muttered curse as his cock sprang free through the 'V' that was created when he carefully eased the zipper of his jeans down; restricted only by the thin fabric of his boxers that slid over his heated flesh like the teasing caress of a first-time lover.

Not that he would know, it was just all of those romance novels that he had read in his youth making sex out to be so much more poetic sounding that it actually probably was. Cas had seen porn and he had just as active of an imagination as any other guy his age and yea, he had gotten a blow job...once; from one of Meg's friends at a party that okay, maybe didn't really count as a full blow job because the girl had thrown up on him about halfway through and her drunken enthusiasm had not made up for the fact that at the time all he had wanted was someone he could never have, Meg.

As he looked down at his twitching, fabric covered cock, fingers itching to touch and lungs struggling to find enough air so that his panting wouldn't sound so loud and desperate in the sterile stillness of his impersonal hospital room, Castiel could only feel panic. All of his fantasies had always revolved around Meg, lurid and provocative ones that he built off of how her moans sounded coming through his bedroom wall when she was with Balthazar or more innocent ones that focused on how she smiled at him when he brought her a cup of tea when she had been upset about something one of her parents had said to her; so the question was, now that he had realized this, what the fuck was he supposed to do? He no idea what guys did with each other and as a result had no idea where to even start when trying to imagine a scenario that might involve him and Dean together.

Cas let out a heavy, frustrated breath through his nose and slammed his fist into the mattress beside his hip. He shifted uncomfortably until he just gave in and pushed his boxers and jeans far enough down his thighs that his member would stop feeling so restrained and frankly, confused. Could dicks feel confused? He figured they probably could because once his cock had bobbed out to slap lightly against his abdomen, his thoughts settled on the easiest thing that he could do to take care of his pesky little problem. Easy was good, easy was exactly what he needed because he knew that once he got started it wouldn't matter that he was recycling an old fantasy in order to get off; it would just matter that something tight and slick was providing just the right amount of friction and maybe it would be enough that he could trick himself into believing that it was someone else long enough for him to come.

He normally liked to build up a grand fantasy, something that involved Meg showing him that she cared about him too and making the first move instead of him always taking care of and comforting her when she was down. Sometimes when he was really horny and the build up was just something that seemed too frustrating to deal with, he would skip right to that memory of her red lacy panties peeking out from under Balthazar's t-shirt and it would devolve into him pinning her up against the kitchen counter top and her begging him to ravage her because she had always secretly wanted him too. Yeah, it was far-fetched, but it was a fucking fantasy, sue him.

For Dean though...Cas felt like he was already betraying the other man enough by indulging himself in a fantasy that involved Dean in any way, so if he was going to actually go through with this he was going to make damn sure it was worth it. Time limits and the possibility of someone walking in on him could be damned. With that decided he slouched farther down against the headboard behind him and shut his eyes, focusing on the sound of his breathing instead of the faint chatter that he could hear coming from the hallway and the dull throb of arousal that was still thrumming faintly in his veins even though his erection had started to flag while he was fretting himself out of doing this.

Cas ran the fingertips of his right hand down the underside of his erection, brushing along the vein that pulsed beneath his skin and trailing lower until he could cup his balls to roll them softly in his palm, he let out a soft groan that he quickly stifled by biting his bottom lip. He continued his light, not-nearly-enough-to-get-off strokes as he started to paint the backdrop of his chosen fantasy in his mind; granted it was a familiar one. One that he had used with Meg only once or twice before on the nights when she and Balthazar had gone out to a club or party, his roommate's girlfriend looking sinful and desirable in whatever short dress or tight leather getup she was wearing. On those occasions she would ask if he wanted to come, but the offer wouldn't be genuine since she was already being tugged out of the door by Balthazar and waiting for him to pack away his homework so that it wouldn't get out of order would just make them later.

All he had ever wanted was for her to do something that would make him forget all about his homework and that was the gist of the fantasy; usually it involved her sweeping everything that he was working on away from him and who knew that you could have anxiety while in the middle of masturbating? It had been a lesson learned the hard way, which was why the fantasy was one of the ones that he hadn't revisited in quite a while. It was just too hard to imagine Meg caring enough about silly things like term papers when she wanted to have sex, he had seen how many times she had jumped on Balthazar when his roommate had his hands full of something. The idea of her being so turned on by him that she couldn't wait was hot, but it wasn't realistic and he was practical to a fault, even in his head.

But Dean had never showed anything but care and concern for him, Cas figured that would probably translate into the other patient being considerate in everything else he did. He slipped further into his fantasy, taking his hands off of his cock completely and trailing them up his chest, pulling his t-shirt up as he went so that his pale abdomen was exposed all the way up to his collarbones. In his head he was doing homework in the living room of his apartment, books spread across the cushions and coffee table and every other flat surface around him, his laptop perched precariously on his knees as he typed up some paper on the ethics of business accounting; god he had hated that fucking class so much.

It looked pretty much about the same in his head as his actual apartment did, maybe there was different art on the wall; stuff that was less tacky because Balthazar had horrible taste in art. His mom's painting of the piano was hanging on the wall near the television that was softly droning some news station as background noise while he worked and both of the drawings that Dean had given him were framed and sitting with other photographs on a shelf of honor above the device. The fantasy version of his apartment looked more like the home it was supposed to be and less like the prison that it had become over the last couple of months for Cas, he allowed himself a grin as one of his hands traced a lazy pattern onto his ribcage.

"It's movie night," Dean piped, carrying two cans of soda along with a large bowl of popcorn into the room; stopping long enough to pointedly eye the coffee table until Castiel leaned forward and shifted enough things around that the other man could set down his arm load of movie snacks. "No homework on movie night."

Dean was wearing just Castiel's blue cardigan and a pair of black basketball shorts, his chest and legs bare but shadowed from the table lamp that was on at the end of the couch nearest Cas, the muscles flexing unconsciously as Dean clapped his hands briskly and started stacking up all of Castiel's homework neatly; ignoring his protests in that innocent, endearing way that always made Cas's heart swell.

"I've got to finish this," Castiel sighed, licking his lips self-consciously as Dean scoffed softly and turned around to bend over so that he could rifle through the DVDs that were on a shelf underneath the television. "Really, it's due tomorrow."

"You've been stressing about that fucking paper for a week," Dean chided, running his finger along the spines of the thin boxes he was looking at until he found what he was looking for, putting the disc in with great pomp and circumstance before settling onto the couch next to Castiel in the space that had just recently housed all of the research he was using to write his paper. "You need to relax and I need my Cas time, so it's win-win and non-negotiable."

"I'm going to have stay up all night to finish this," Cas argued, grumbling it half-heartedly under his breath as Dean wrenched his hand off of the keyboard to put it around his own shoulders; snuggling into the empty space and putting his hand high on Castiel's thigh underneath his laptop so that he had to put that away too or risk the computer falling off his knees. "You're incorrigible."

"If that's your way of saying you're really happy I picked _Groundhog Day_ to watch so that we don't really have to pay attention to it and can make out instead," Dean said quickly, drawing in a breath and flashing him a cheeky smile before letting the air that gushed out of him carry his breathy words right into the shell of Castiel's ear. "Then encourage away."

"I didn't say encourage-" Cas started, his breath hitching in his chest as he felt Dean's lips brush against his neck and his hand move higher to cup his steadily growing erection through the pajama pants that he was wearing in his fantasy.

"I'll proof-read your paper," Dean murmured against his neck, shifting until he was kneeling on his knees on the couch cushions next to Castiel; cupping his face with one hand and urging until Cas turned his head so Dean could start planting soft kisses over his jaw and up to his mouth. "I'll even make you some tea while you finish it and I promise not to touch you until you're done with your homework, just give me _Groundhog Day_ to help you relax and then I'll be good."

"You're always good, Dean," Castiel groaned, only half-frustrated by the fact that the other man still didn't believe him no matter how many times he said it. He could feel Dean shoulders shrugging under his hands that had moved up to run over the other man's chest and underneath the cardigan so that he could feel those perfect muscles that he would much rather be writing arias and ballads about instead of doing homework. "C'mere, I'll show you. Let me show you."

Dean climbed quickly into Castiel's lap, hands insistently pulling his t-shirt up and off so that the other man could latch his mouth onto the juncture of Castiel's shoulder and neck, nipping softly at the skin as he shucked his own sweater with a breathy expletive. Castiel ran his hands over his own chest in an effort to replicate the sensations that he was feeling from the imagined caresses of fantasy Dean in his head; it wasn't exactly the same, but it was close enough that his cock gave an interested jump none the less.

In his head, the other man's solid weight pressed him down into the soft cushions of the couch, knees on either side of his him as Dean whimpered against his mouth when Castiel rolled his hips up into the other man's experimentally, almost choking on his tongue when he felt a hardness there that mirrored his own. God, this was what he wanted; to know that someone wanted him and needed him without having to wade through all the bullshit and mindgames to find know that it was mutual. He thought back to all of the little things that Dean had done to let him know that he wanted him, things that he hadn't even realized until now and imagined that he was pressing his lips against the other man's; swallowing down his needy whimpers and breathless moans like they were the air that he needed to breathe.

He hadn't done a lot of kissing, but he had done enough to know that he liked the nipping teeth from his dream about Dean and that the scratch of stubble against his neck would probably be just the right counterpoint of pain to keep him from coming too soon without touching as much of Dean as he possibly could first. If he never got to do it in real life, then at least he could imagine running his hands down Dean's arms, over the raised scars and the angry marks that he would never be able to erase because the past they represented were what had made Dean into the wonderful person he wanted more than almost anything else.

Dean's hands dropped from where they had been cradling his face and running over his ribs to fumble with the drawstring on Castiel's pajama pants, ducking his head away from their kiss so that he could focus on his trembling fingers. Castiel could feel the real life flush spreading down his chest as he wrapped his hand around his straining member, pausing just long enough to apply a dollop of lotion to his hand before he stroked his thumb quickly over the weeping head and then down the length, using every ounce of willpower that he possessed to still his movements after those simple gestures left him shaking with want.

"Dean," Cas whispered, watching the other man's face that was full of awe as he brushed his large hand down the length of Castiel's cock, ignoring the pain that he had to be feeling from Cas gripping the bare skin of his hips as he willed his hands to move so that he could touch Dean too. Fuck, he wanted to touch so bad, but he was paralyzed with fear that any move he made would make it painfully obvious that he had no idea what he was doing. "I need to-"

"I know," Dean breathed, leaning back so that he could start to kiss down Castiel's chest as he slid to the floor between his spread knees. "I know what you need Cas, I've got you."

Cas watched with widened eyes as Dean circled the thumb and index finger of his left hand around the base of his cock, squeezing enough to keep him from coming from just the picture of the other man looking so wanton in his head. He mimicked fantasy Dean's motions, rubbing the palm of his right hand up and down his thigh until he had to move it to palm the head of his cock in a sad imitation of how Dean had leaned forward to lave his tongue along his flesh. It was enough to make his hips buck up off the bed as he gave a low shout that he desperately hoped no one heard from just the imagined sensation of the second and best blow job he had ever gotten in his life.

"I'm not going to last very long," Castiel admitted to Dean who just grinned at him from around the head of his cock, bobbing down farther on him as his right hand disappeared out of Cas's view below the edge of the couch. "But that was the point, you sneaky bastard."

Dean shrugged his shoulders and just hummed his answer into Castiel's skin, his cheeks hollowing out while he ran his tongue over the vein and around the flare at the tip of his cock; pulling off briefly to suck in a shaky breath before diving back down and resuming his ministrations. On Cas's part, all he could do was moan and clutch at the other man's muscular shoulders; unwilling to force Dean to move faster because the other man was already giving him so much that he just couldn't bring himself to take more.

Back in his room, his body was confused by the whole thing because he liked it faster? Didn't he? So why wasn't his hand moving faster? And why was it skipping over that sensitive part just below the head that always made him come within seconds of giving it a little attention? Instead he was running the blunt edge of his nails over the base of his cock and trying to imagine that they were Dean's teeth catching at his skin because maybe the other man wasn't as experienced as he knew Dean had to be. With his sure movements and his cocky confidence Dean couldn't be a pathetic little virgin like him, but he wanted to imagine that he was and that maybe they could learn it all together. The thought alone made him whimper as he felt his balls draw up tight in anticipation to his body.

"Dean fuck!" Castiel blurted, loud in the quiet of the room before he muffled the noises that he was making into the hand that wasn't slick with lotion and precome and stroking his cock.

Dean was moaning around him, the vibrations seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere because this was all in his head, but Cas pushed that away as he felt his cock start to pulse thickly in the tight heat of the other man's mouth; the want and arousal rolling off of Dean in waves that slammed into him and made his vision white out behind his eyelids as his breath came out as a stuttered, strangled groan that would sound just like the name of another patient if someone were to barge in right now. But Cas didn't even care because despite the fact that he was coming down from the highest high he had ever experienced, the fantasy continued to play out unbidden in his head as he fought for breath.

"Cas," Dean moaned desperately, pressing his face into his thigh once Castiel's cock had slipped from his mouth.

Cas tried to focus his attention on the other man or at least as much attention as he could muster while it felt like his head was detached from his body, wanting to take the harsh edge out of the other man's ragged breathing because Dean was so sexy and wonderful and he wanted to take care of him however he could. He lifted his hand from Dean's shoulder to pet his soft, spiked hair; struggling to make the rest of his body move as Dean pulled back from him, panting mouth open slightly and green eyes dark with desire. He finally noticed that the other man's grip on his thigh was tight and clinging while the muscles of his opposite arm bunched and contracted as his arm worked up and down in a motion that was familiar even though Cas couldn't see exactly what the other man was doing.

"Tell me you love me, Cas," Dean choked out, his breathing uneven and his lips swollen red from being stretched around Castiel's cock. "I need it...need to hear you say it."

Castiel nodded quickly, bringing his hand down to cradle Dean's face so that the other man would keep looking at him as he brushed his thumb softly over the full bottom lip. Dean moaned, letting his eyes drift closed as he leaned into the touch only to snap them back open with a low growl as Cas told him what he needed to hear; the other man's chest arching towards him as he came in long, white streaks that reached almost all the way up to his neck before dropping his head heavily back on to Castiel's thigh with a satisfied sigh.

Dean's soft, sincere reply of "I love you too, ya dork." was what snapped Cas out of the fantasy, his eyes burning from the overly bright fluorescent lighting in the ceiling above him and the harsh reality of rapidly cooling come on his hand and abdomen reminding him that all of that was something that he had just made up in his head. Sure Dean liked him, but they hardly knew each other; it was only endorphins and his overactive imagination that made him throw around the only four-lettered word that Cas had specially reserved for his family and Meg. Even if he said it to Dean in real life, the other man would never say it back.

Cas let out a sigh before making a disgusted face at the mess he had made of himself and wiping his hand on the top sheet that was still resting on his thighs; writing the linen off as a lost cause after a moment and using it to clean up the rest of the come that was on his chest before shoving it as deep into his laundry bag as he could so that no one would see it. He took a moment to wash his hands and flatten down the hair that was sticking up on the back of his head from where he had been writhing against the bed beneath him; the panic that he was sure would come sooner rather than later pushed to the back of his mind momentarily as he rode the waves of his afterglow all the way to the door of his room and out into the hallway.

Where he immediately ran into Charlie who had a very knowing if slightly embarrassed look on her face where she stood propped up against the wall that was opposite his doorway. Fuckfuckfuckfuckityfuck. Cas tried to remember if he had been very loud and if she might have heard him at all, what the fuck did she hear? Did he say Dean's name? Did he moan and curse and gasp out an 'I love you' that he was pretty certain he had just said in his head? Was she disgusted by him?

"Oh calm down already," Charlie said teasingly, reaching out to land a solid punch on on his bicep that made him wince and immediately reach a hand up to rub at the sore spot. "I grew up in the system, remember? Group homes and foster care? I've shared a bedroom with people almost my whole life, privacy is nonexistent."

"Oh my god," Castiel groaned, burying his face in his hands that smelled of the lemony-scented hand soap that he had just used to wash away the last traces of his indiscretion. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be," Charllie said, pulling his hands away from his face with a laugh. "Most people erm...take care of business in the shower, but if you need a bed to get you off then I can be your wank guard. Keep look out so that no one walks in on you or anything, but you might want to try to be a little quieter."

"Kill me," Cas begged, his face flaming with shame and self-hatred because Charlie was laughing at him and he couldn't even fucking masturbate anymore without becoming the butt of someone's joke. A thought struck him, one that sent a bolt of horror shooting straight into his stomach making him feel like he was about to barf all over Charlie's worn off-brand Vans. "Where's Dean? Did he hear me too? God, I messed it all up didn't I?"

"Chill, Cas!" Charlie shouted at him, causing more than a few heads of the other patients that were lingering farther down the hallway to turn their way. "You weren't that loud, okay? I was just messing with you. I only heard you because I almost burst in there looking for you, luckily you made some pretty tell-tale noises because I've told Dean a million times and I'll tell you the same thing, your libido is the last thing I want to see. I don't care how pretty you think a guy's lips are, keep your dick to yourself."

His heart gave a hopeful lurch at Charlie's words, but then he checked his soaring emotions. Dean probably hadn't been talking about his lips or anything and he highly doubted that the other man had jer- done what Cas had done while thinking about him too. But if Charlie was here waiting on him and she was the only one that had heard him, then where was Dean?

"He's busy," Charlie said with a roll of her eyes, looping her arm through his and tugging him off in the direction of the common room before he could even ask the question. Sometimes it seemed like she could read his mind almost as much as Anna and his mom had been able to. "But he told me to tell you that he'd find you once he was done. And trust me he's probably going to need you, Tuesdays and Thursdays are pretty much the worst days of the week for him."

"Why?" Castiel asked, letting her lead him away as Rufus rounded the corner to their room and slipped back inside, waters droplet still glistening in his greying hair. "Is he talking to Missouri again? I thought that was just a once a day thing?"

"No, he's in group," Charlie explain shortly, glancing back over her shoulder when Rufus shouted behind them and picking up their pace a little bit as they continued down the hallway. "Andy'll be here soon, we can help him set up the instruments and stuff. That will kill enough time until lunch at least, Dean will be there for sure."

Castiel frowned in confusion, hadn't there only been two actual groups scheduled for Tuesday and Thursdays? Anger Management which had already happened and-

"Where do they meet at?" Castiel asked tightly, tugging his arm away from Charlie when she ignored his question and made to keep walking down the hall with purposeful strides, away from the rec room. He turned on his heel and started back down the hallway, needing to find Dean so that he could protect him from everything that had hurt him, even if it was his past and demons that he couldn't fight because they weren't physically there; he had to try.

"Cas, he doesn't want you to see him like that," Charlie called behind him, racing to tug on his shirt sleeve in an effort to deter him before just sighing in defeat through her nose and taking his hand resignedly in her own. "Well you two are just perfect for each other then," she muttered as he reached the rec room, staring through the window at the small group assembled there. "You're both stubborn fucking assholes."

"Charlie, I know you mean well," Cas said, giving her hand a squeeze before moving towards the door that was propped open with a doorstop; Dean was sitting with his back towards it and the window so he didn't see when Cas paused hesitantly in the doorway. "But shut the fuck up."

"...and I've decided to not let losing my eyesight keep me from becoming what I really want to be," Pam was saying, adjusting her sunglasses primly on her nose as she spoke and causing Castiel to push his own glasses up self-consciously. "A professional juggler and knife thrower. Thank you."

There was a short, confused round of applause and Castiel couldn't help but smile when Dean's slow clapping rang out loud and sarcastic over the rest of the group that included Becky and Lilith along with two other male patients that Cas had seen, but not spoken with because they were older and haggard looking and kept mostly to themselves in the common room and cafeteria.

"Thank you Pam," A small woman with short dark hair said, speaking earnestly and soothingly from the armchair that Dean had been sitting in when Cas had abruptly left the room. "Very inspiring, but the topic of today's discussion was about how surviving abuse has shaped who we are today. Your input was close, but I don't think it quite fit. Does anyone have anything that might fit today's discussion?"

Cas stifled his gasp when Dean quickly raised his hand in front of him, earning an arched eyebrow along with an indulgent smile and a nod from the woman leading the group. Dean cleared his throat and Castiel's heart gave a lurch when the other patient seemed to shrink in on himself, his shoulders hunching defensively and his head bowing as he started to speak in a voice that sounded uncertain and lacked the bravado that he was so used to hearing.

"Thanks Tess," Dean muttered, running a hand over the back of his neck in what Cas was only now realizing was a gesture he did when he was nervous or searching for the right thing to say. "I um...I don't know if it fits so it might sound stupid or whatever, but um...does anyone else ever wonder if the only reason they are the way they are is because of what happened to them?"

Dean lifted his head just a little bit and Cas could almost picture how the other man's eyes were searching the room desperately for someone that might understand what he was saying; his head ducked back down quickly when the silence in the room stretched on. A flush crept up the back of the other man's neck and Castiel just wanted to reach out and gather Dean into his arms so that he didn't have to talk about this, god, he shouldn't be listening to this. But he couldn't tear himself away even though he knew that whatever he heard next was probably going to make him feel like his heart had been ripped out and stomped on.

"Okay, well maybe its just me," Dean continued with a self-conscious shrug. "But um...sometimes I start thinking about what my life would be like if um...I hadn't had bad stuff happen to me. Like what if everything about me has been shaped from this one horrible thing that happened to me when I was a kid? What if there's an alternate universe out there where Dean Winchester didn't get abused? Does that Dean still like all the things that I like, like music and stuff? Or even the same people? Does he love his little brother still even though he didn't have to protect him like I did or does he take Sam for granted? Is he gay or is that just like a fucked up byproduct of what he- I read y'know and I know that's like a theory or whatever, but it's fucking scary. To think maybe everything about me is defined by what happened and it sometimes feels like I'm still that little boy who no one can save, it feel like Az- it feels like he is still winning."

"Well, Dean," the group leader started after Dean had stopped to draw in a gasping breath, his shoulders shaking almost as hard as Castiel was from having to restrain himself; he had wanted to learn about Dean, but not if it meant seeing him so fragile and broken and sad. "There are a lot of theories about homosexuality and more of them lean heavily towards the nature aspect rather than the nurture aspect that you describe. However it is not uncommon for victims of abuse to question their actions, they often do it for the rest of their lives. The struggle with a feeling that you've somehow lost your agency is one that each and every one of you will have to learn how to conquer because there is no "right" way of coping with it. The key is to have a support system who understands that struggle and has the patience to wait while you reaffirm that your decisions are your own and no one else's to make. Now in the case of sexual abuse…"

But Cas had turned and walked away, fleeing from the doorway as soon as Tessa's eyes had locked onto his own and she had tilted her head pointedly in Dean's direction as she spoke; an action that the rest of the group missed because their heads were either bowed or, in Pam's case, they were blind. Charlie followed after him, calling for him to stop, but he couldn't because he would never be able to get away from the intern's words; telling him that he would never be that person for Dean. Someone who would not push him to do something that he wasn't he comfortable with. Wasn't that what he had just done by putting Dean in his fantasy?

He felt like the worst kind of villain, like his skin was crawling with disgusting parasites that would infect everyone he cared about if he got too close. Cas felt like he need a dark room or a shower or a tall building, the latter being his only way to save everyone else from how depraved and disgusting he was if he couldn't manage to ever feel clean again. Dean would be better off without him, everyone would be better off without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised Dean reveals and they're a-comin'. I know this chapter ended on the sad note, but hopefully there was enough smut to make up for it. Also the next chapter will end happy, I promise! Thanks to everyone who is commenting and bookmarking, if there is something/someone you would like me to put in the story let me know.
> 
> Also! If you aren't already, come and see me on tumblr (new URL for those who already see me on the reg) at itspronounceddeathsteel


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admission time: I have no idea how long this fic is going to be....oops.

His first impulse was to go and pound on Missouri's door until she opened it up and talked to him again, but after the way he had bailed on their session he was almost certain that she would just laugh in his face and agree that jumping off of a building was one of the best ideas that he had had in years. Cas just felt so dirty and depraved and thought that he had to be at least a million times more disgusting that all of the people who had hurt Dean combined. He was desperate to make that feeling go away.

God, he just wanted it forget the way that Tessa had looked at him so fucking knowingly because at least then he could've told himself that Dean was damaged because his dad had beat him up or called him worthless. But the roiling, acrid feeling in the pit of his stomach and the bitter taste of bile at the back of his throat had him lurching down the hallway towards his room, sure in the knowledge that something much worse must have happened to Dean to make him want to die. And he was exactly the same as whatever monster had made the other patient feel like that in the first place.

Castiel reached his room to find the door shut and and somehow barricaded from the inside because when he tried to open it he could only make it budge about an inch before it hit something sturdy and heavy on the other side. He pushed against the weight but only succeeded in hearing Rufus chuckle low and gleefully from the other side when Cas let out a frustrated groan.

"White boy, you're not getting it open," Rufus explained, a shrewd brown eye and a face that still had beads of water dripping down it appearing in the crack that Castiel had managed to create using the entirety of his severely depleted muscle mass. "Did you have sex in here while I was gone?"

"Is that a real question?" Cas replied desperately, swallowing down the bile because holy fucking hell he really did not want to throw up in the hallway. "You have to be fucking kidding me right now!"

"I come back from my shower," Rufus started, ticking off points on the fingers of his hand that Castiel could barely even see through the narrow opening. "It smells like a teenage boy's tube sock in here and your bed is even more dishevelled than usual. If you and Winchester think that you're going to treat _my_ room, my one respite from all of the fucking nags plaguing me in this place, like its a goddanged bordello then you have another think comin', white boy."

"I have a name, Rufus!" Castiel argued, even though that wasn't really the point and this whole conversation had just given him a new reason to want to die on top of discovering that he was a total sleezeball. "And it's my fucking room too, I will have sex with whoever I want in there. As long as it's not on your bed it shouldn't be your fucking problem. Now open the damn door!"

"Well look who decided to grow a pair," Rufus mumbled before his face disappeared and Castiel heard the tell-tale sound of wood scraping on the tile floor on the other side of the door. The older man opened the door and Cas saw that his roommate had moved his dresser so that it had blocked the door, tossing his toiletries and books onto the haphazard mess that was his bed. "Sorry about your shit, Shurley. Heh, I sound like that old movie _Airplane! '_ Don't call me Shirley.' You ever seen that movie, boy?"

"No," Castiel said shortly, pushing past the older man so that he could get into the bathroom; kneeling on the floor in front of the toilet and removing his glasses in preparation for the sick he could feel boiling up his throat.

Rufus watched him vomit with a strange sort of smirk on his face, one that Cas couldn't quite decide if it was being brought on by the strange fascination that some people had with watching others in distress or genuine concern that the other man just didn't know how to show very well; either way it was not making him feel any better about all of the reasons why he was feeling so terrible in the first place. Every burning, razor-wire dry heave felt like a poor substitute for the punishment that he thought he really deserved for using Dean just like everyone else who had ever claimed to care about the other patient had, but until he figured out a way to punish himself properly this was just going to have to work for now.

"You anorexic or somethin'?" Rufus asked from his perch by the doorway, making Castiel blink away the sudden memory of Dean watching concernedly over him while he puked last time. "Or what do they call the ones who puke on purpose?"

"Bulimics," Castiel finished thickly, wiping away the tears and snot that had tracked down his face with the back of his hand. "And no, it's just a thing I do when I'm...it's a thing I have. You gonna tell me your story now, roomie?"

"That's a dumb ass rule," Rufus grunted, pulling a few paper towels out of the dispenser next to the sink and handing them to Cas in a no-nonsense kind of way. "You kids think you're being all cute by keeping what's wrong with you from each other, like its some kind of game. But you can't get to know a person for real if you aren't willing to talk about all your shit. That's all life is; a bunch of shit that you deal with on your own until you find someone who doesn't turn their nose up at how bad it smells."

"That's very poetic," he replied bitterly, closing the toilet lid and flushing it before clambering up to sit on the cool porcelain so he could cradle his head in his hands. "So are you gonna tell me or not? I mean, you've got all of _your_ shit figured out, right?"

"You're a little smart ass, you know that?" Rufus asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as Castiel gave his glasses a perfunctory cleaning with the hem of his t-shirt. "Probably why Winchester likes you so much. Y'know this is my second go 'round with him and never, I mean never have I-"

"Can we not?" Castiel asked quickly, his stomach giving another guilty lurch that made him hesitate to put his glasses on because if he was going to throw up again then there really was no point. "I just can't talk about...anything else. Like I thought all of the furniture was bolted to the floor or something, how'd you move the dresser?"

"That particular dresser was not bolted to the floor," Rufus explained, the corner of his mouth ticking up like he had some private joke that he had no intention of letting Castiel in on.

"Great story," Castiel replied sarcastically after a long silence wherein he waited for the elaboration from the other man that never came. He wasn't feeling any better, at all, but his head felt clearer so maybe he could start to think of a way that he could get out of here; no way could he face Dean now. No way could he subject the other man to his...perversions; it would be better for all of them if he left.

"You said you didn't want to talk about a certain someone," the other patient said with a shrug, turning back into the room and moving towards the dresser that he pushed fully back into place with a resounding screech. "The story of the dresser involves that someone. So…"

"Fuck, just tell me," Cas sighed, hating himself for wanting to know and feeling like a total creep for it, but now that he had opened the floodgates of Dean's past it was all that he could think about. The desire to know filling him like some sort of cancerous tumor that he didn't know if he would ever be able to get rid of.

He stood on shaky legs and moved to his bed, picking up an armful of toiletries that he started to carefully place back in their former positions as Rufus settled himself back into his bed in his usual spot; covers thrown over his body until only his face was visible so that he could tell his story as he watched Castiel move about the room.

"Well you know that this isn't your boy's first time at LICH, right?" Rufus asked, earning a stiff nod from Cas as he listened to the older man while meticulously arranging the bottles and books that had been misplaced. "I've only been with him here once before, but last time he was here this was his room. He shared it with this real nasty character named Alistair; sadistic sonofabitch if there ever was one. You hear about serial killers like torturing housepets and stuff when they were kids? Well, it wouldn't have surprised me one bit if that asshole had never been given anything more alive than a pet rock to take care of. When I say piece of work I mean piece of work, Castiel."

"I get it," Cas mumbled, wondering what his roommate was going to say about him once he was gone. Would Rufus say that Castiel had preyed on a broken man's affections? Used him? Betrayed him? _Hurt him?_ "Alistair, asshole, number one badguy. Go on."

"Well Dean got real tired of being pushed around and abused by that jerk, back then there was this other doctor who believed in like making you face your fears and shit, hardcore backwater psychology and she was assigned to Dean's case, not Missouri. So she just didn't listen when he complained about it, told him that the only way he was ever going to get better was if he handled it himself.

So that crazy boy stole some scrubs and snuck down to one of the janitors closets, picked the lock with a freaking paperclip and found a pair of pliers. Dean came up here and unbolted that dresser from the floor, took him like three days to do it with the wrong tool, but boy when he finally got it off he shut Alastair out of this room and sat in here singing old Led Zepplin songs while that asshole banged on the door from the other side. Alastair was fit to be tied, but holy shit was it funny."

Castiel was smiling in spite of himself, slipping the drawings that Dean had done for him out of the back of his study guide and smoothing them out flat against his dresser. He really shouldn't hide these, they were a testament to how despite everything Dean still found beauty in things; even if Cas was tainting that, everyone should still know how talented the other patient was.

"Course once they got the door open they found Dean with his arms slashed to hell from that sharp ass bolt that he yanked out of the floor," Rufus continued, ignoring Castiel as he made a mad rush to the toilet when the nausea slammed into him from the image that the other man described. "But him gettin' sent somewhere else got him away from Alastair and I guess that was his intention all along. By the time I got discharged and flipped around in the system again before ending up here 'bout a year laterr, Dean was back and Alastair was on his way to jail because Missouri doesn't play with that shit. They hear you threatening another patient and then find a scalpel in your room, that shit will get you sent packin' real quick."

"Shut up," Cas moaned from the bathroom, pushing his tear stained glasses up his nose before retching a couple more times for good measure. No use in keeping anything in his stomach if he was going to be puking all day anyway.

"Cas," Ash's voice sounded from the hallway, followed by a brisk knock on the door. "You in there, dude? Lunch is coming up and Dean's looking for you."

"Tell him, I'm sick!" Castiel practically shouted, panic gripping him at the thought of Dean not knowing how horrible he was and putting himself in a situation to be hurt again. If the only thing he could protect Dean from was himself, then he was obligated to do it. "Just...I think it's contagious. Like all the vomit ever, you all just need to stay away from me until I'm better."

"Gross," the other man commented, but all Cas could see was the disapproving expression on Rufus's face as the older man looked at him from across the room. "I'll tell them, just...feel better dude."

"What?!" Castiel snapped at is roommate, clambering to his feet once he was sure that Ash was well and truly gone; giving the toilet handle another angry flush because he could and goddamnit it's not like there was anything else for him to take his anger out on, yet. "Go on, you can go ahead and yell at me or whatever for lying to them."

"Sounds like you've got a guilty conscience or something, Shurley," Rufus grumbled in reply, sharp brown eyes taking in the way that Castiel winced from his words and not missing the way the younger man looked forlornly at his goofy little drawings before plopping down heavily onto his bed. "Or maybe you're just gettin' all freaked over the idea that maybe Dean knows what's best for Dean at this point and will pick who he spends his time with according to his instincts which trust me have much improved since the last time that little brat was here."

"My whole life doesn't revolve around Dean," Castiel bit out quickly, blinking back the tears that sprung up unbidden when he realized that it never would. Because he was poison and would just end up leaving Dean with more scars to nurse if he stayed in the other man's life. "I don't feel well and I just want to stay in bed until they send me home. Now if you don't mind, I plan on sleeping until I die."

"You seemed fine earlier," Rufus continued, sounding entirely too pleased with himself for Cas's taste as the younger man made a nest for himself out of the crumpled, sweat-stained sheets on his bed. "Hell, you were everything that Dean needed you to be for him exactly when he needed it. And I've never seen that fool-headed boy happier than when he was picking up your dirty clothes like some love addled little housewife after you left. Tol' me that you were the first man he has ever hugged that isn't family, now that's gotta mean he trusts you."

"He doesn't even know me," Cas muttered in reply, turning his back to Rufus and curling into a tight ball so that he could try to keep his heart that felt like it was being torn out of his body from abandoning him. "I'm a stranger to him."

"Far as I know, Dean's problem hasn't ever been strangers." Rufus replied cryptically. "And whatever you are to him it's obvious that you both want it to be more than that, so what's the problem?"

Castiel knew that the answer was that he didn't want to hurt Dean, didn't want to be just another person in his life who had used him for their own pleasure before dumping him on the system that didn't know how to help him. But he didn't want Rufus to know how desperately vulnerable he was when it came to Dean yet, how it felt like the other man had pulled back the jagged, gnarled layer of doubt and anxiety that had formed around his heart over the years and wormed his way inside using nothing but shy smiles and stuttered affections. Cas felt like it would just be worse if it got back to Dean somehow that he cared about the other patient so much, like it would make things harder for the other man once he took himself out of the equation. Whether it was killing himself or maybe doing something drastic to get sent somewhere else like Dean had done to get away from Alistair, one thing Cas was sure of; he wouldn't be around long enough to add any more scars to the ones that already marred Dean Winchester.

"Lunch time, guys!" Garth announced around a sheaf of papers that he was carrying between his lips, two trays of food wobbling precariously in the orderly's hands as he moved to set them down before he dropped them. "One regular tray for Mr. Turner or is it Mr. Vandross today? Either way, Rufus your food and meds are right here and Cas you're getting the soup since you're sick. Clear liquids only until you stop puking, per the doctor and some Pepto tabs to go along with your other meds. Bon appetit, broskis!"

"How did you-" Cas began, pulling back the covers over his head long enough that he could look at Garth as he spoke.

"Ash told me you were puking when he was headed into the caf," Garth explained with a shrug, setting down the papers that he had removed from his mouth after setting down the trays at the foot of Rufus's bed. "Oh and Rufus, your social worker came by, dropped off these brochures and applications for long term placements. Said for you to give her a call once you had finished looking through them."

Rufus muttered something that sounded like 'Not fucking likely.' before falling silent again, shifting his feet enough under his covers so that when the papers spilled on the floor it looked like the accident that Cas was pretty sure it wasn't. Garth just let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the other man's back before turning back to Castiel who had sat up in his bed to stare blankly at the tray containing soup, crackers, a glass of water, and his pitiful paper cup of medication. No tea, nothing that would help him calm the way his stomach was still rebelling against gravity.

"You gonna eat, man?" Garth asked conversationally as he moved towards the door and a small cart full of trays that the orderly was delivering to the other shut-ins on the unit. "The soups pretty good, not pho or anything, but maybe you'll feel better if you eat. You kinda look like someone just kicked your puppy, no offense."

"None taken," Castiel muttered, waving off the other man tiredly before a thought struck him. "Hey...uh...was Dean in the cafeteria? Like you saw him in there?"

"Yea," Garth said, frowning confusedly before shaking his head again like he was clearing away the cobwebs. "Now that you mention it though he usually skips lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays, shuts himself in his room until music therapy. It's a tough day for him, y'know?"

"Yea, I know," Cas replied bitterly, climbing out of the bed and tossing back his pills; even the Pepto ones despite the fact that he knew they would just turn his vomit pink when everything inevitably came up later. "But he looked okay, right?"

"Better than he usually does on Tuesdays if that's what you mean," Garth answered with a shrug. "But he seemed kinda bummed that you weren't there. Are you two like...because I don't care, but y'know...rules...shit is this really awkward now?"

"No," Castiel assured the orderly with a half-hearted chuckle and a shake of his head. "And no, to both questions. It just...I'm not good enough for him."

Garth gave him a sad little smirk and a pat on the shoulder before heading out to his cart of food, "I'm not an expert on love or anything, Cas, but I think you're supposed to let the other person decide that. If you ask me though and I know that you aren't, I think you're exactly the right amount of good for Dean. Feel better, man."

"Yea, thanks," Cas replied softly, frowning down at his shoes because that was the second person who had pretty much told him to let Dean decide if he wanted to risk himself with Cas. Plus Charlie had explicitly told him to let Dean take the lead and set the pace for anything they did and the other man had seemed nothing but willing to continue whatever it was they were doing, despite seeing how obviously toxic Cas was.

He took one look at his chicken noodle soup as he thought all of this to himself, the smell of over-boiled chicken and the sight of soggy noodles was enough to have him rushing out of the room and into the hallway where his nausea lessened almost immediately. It was eerily quiet when he paused outside his doorway, cautiously looking down the hallways in case someone was waiting to jump out and bust him for not really being sick; not physically at least. If it was going to be anyone it would probably be Crowley, but Cas doubted that the other man would miss a meal just on the off chance that the other patient might have an opportunity to mess with him.

So Castiel started towards the day area, back pressed close to the wall on his side of the hallway so that no one could sneak up on him from behind and announce his presence to the whole unit. He wasn't ready to talk to Dean yet, explain to the other man that while he thought that it was a really really bad idea for them to continue whatever it was they were doing that he didn't know if he could _make_ himself stay away from Dean. And he didn't want to even though he could shake the feeling that all of this, them, would end in disaster.

But he was full of anxious energy from Garth's proclamation that Dean should be the one to decide if they continued to be...whatever it was that they were to each other. And god, he wanted to know if Dean wanted them to whatever because he wanted to whatever and it was all so confused in his head and the fluttering was back in his chest even though he still felt like his fingertips were crawling with parasites and there were only two things that had ever been able to help him calm down when he was feeling this manic and one was his mom and the other was-

"Music," Castiel breathed, the clamorous racket of his thoughts settling into a fairly coherent melody when he spotted the battered keyboard that had been set up with a few guitars and a small semi-circle of chairs in the corner of the room nearest the record player.

He practically ran across the room towards the instrument, almost tripping over a box full of tambourines and recorders and castanets that he hadn't seen before he had made his mad dash across the empty room. Cas knew that he was being silly, he had a fucking keyboard at home that he never even thought about touching because he was usually too busy with school to bother, but he had left his homework with Missouri and he had no other way of getting out of his own head right now; no one to talk to. He cracked his knuckles after he had dragged one of the battered plastic chairs over to the instrument and sat down behind it; letting his fingers brush tentatively over the keys as he tried to conjure up any of the sheet music that he had been forced to play over and over again during his lessons from the depths of his memory.

But he had nothing, just his lingering conflict over what he should do about Dean which would just lead to more conflict about what he would tell his family if he decided to do anything at all with Dean. Castiel pressed his fingers down randomly on the keys, the noiseless thump they gave reminding him that he hadn't turned the device on yet and leading him to question where exactly his head was if he hadn't even remembered the simple fact that keyboards needed electricity to function.

He tapped out a few random notes with his right hand, adjusting the volume with his left until Cas was sure that it probably wouldn't be noticed by anyone walking by. The high, clear notes made him smile as he settled his left hand over the lower pitched keys; repeating the random notes in the deeper register a couple of times and mirroring them back and forth between his hands until the sounds wove together to form a complex harmony. He settled on the E, Cminor, Aflat, and A chords; the muscles and tendons in his hands stretching to accommodate the familiar, but almost forgotten reach of his fingers as they tried to press the keys he needed to use to play the song that was spilling through his mind.

Instinctively, using an intuition that he hadn't relied on in years, Castiel tried to play the chords as tenths, but his hands cramped in protest from the strain of muscles that he hadn't worked out in a very long time; choosing to use his fingers to hold a pen or type a paper instead of practicing his skills on the piano that his mother used to call a gift and his father used to say was a calling. He settled for rolling the chords instead, the sound it produced coming out more flowing like the guitar that normally played the part that he was trying to replicate.

His right hand played Frank Black's 'Ooohs' that signaled the beginning of the song and then fell straight into the melody when he rocked into the keyboard as the muscles in his forearm started to burn with the workout. It felt good, centered him and made his heart slow down enough that he didn't even feel self-conscious when he started singing the words of the song along softly as he played.

"With your feet on the air and your head on the ground, try this trick and spin it, yea," Castiel spoke-sang softly; not trusting his voice enough to actually carry the melody when his fingers were perfectly capable of doing so on the keyboard. But it was comforting because even though he hadn't meant to end up doing so, the song perfectly captured how conflicted he was; "Your head will collapse, but there's nothing in it and you'll ask yourself, where is my mind? Where is my mind?"

It killed him a little bit that people only associated the song with that Brad Pitt movie and that it was all that anyone knew the Pixies for, not all of the band's amazing albums or groundbreaking loudquietloud formula for their verses and chorus-work. They were hookish before it was a thing for alternative bands to be hookish, without them bands like Nirvana, Soundgarden and REM probably never would have been as easily accepted by main-stream music critics. Castiel could name at least ten different bands that were directly influenced by one or more of the four main Pixies bandmates and that didn't include those members own side-projects or solo albums. They were the underdogs, the forgotten gods of alt-rock for a generation of kids his age that were obsessed with the newest radio-craze and Cas couldn't help but find comfort in their raging, understated melodies.

He drew out the final 'Ooohs' on the highest keys because Cas was more than fairly sure that he could never hope to hit those notes with just his vocal chords. This face was pressed almost all the way into the keyboard and his arms were shaking with fatigue from having used muscles that he had frankly forgotten that he possessed; it felt good though, like he had done something worthwhile and put something out into the world that was a part of himself that wouldn't just disappear even though no one had been around to hear it.

At least that's what he thought until he heard a low, impressed whistle come from the chairs that had been arranged in front of him and his head shot up to see Dean giving him a tired, red-eyed half smirk from the second row of seats. The other man's smile faltered as Castiel stared back at wide-eyed at him, shocked that he had been so engrossed in playing the keyboard that he hadn't even noticed Dean sneak into the room. Dean cleared his throat after a few seconds of just the two of them staring at each other and dropped his gaze down to his hands that Cas realized after a confused blink were clutching tightly at the curved wooden spine of a tambourine.

"So…" Dean started, glancing up at Cas who had been debating to himself what he should say that wouldn't come out sounding like he was warning Dean away from him. Yea, he wanted to give the other man options, but Dean also deserved to know what Castiel had done; why he was no better than whoever else had hurt Dean. "Um...you're looking better."

"What?" Cas asked, confused by how morose the other man sounded when it felt like his own heart had started beating double time once he realized that Dean had heard him play. The first time he had played in years and it was for Dean, it felt right that it had worked out that way.

"Ash said you were sick," Dean explained, giving a nonchalant shrug that seemed too stiff to actually be lacking in any caring. "So I was gonna check on you, but then I heard the music and it was you. I figured you were just...nevermind."

"No, tell me," Castiel urged gently, the tone of his voice carrying something in it that made Dean look up at him with hopeful, shining eyes.

"I figured that you were just avoiding me," Dean admitted softly, biting his bottom lip hard as soon as the words were out and letting go of the tambourine with one hand long enough to rub emphatically at his forearm before he realized what he was doing and stopped. "The Benny thing and then me saying that about your hair...it was just...too much all at once and I didn't get that, but now I do. I've just...I've never had a boyfriend before and I don't know what you're supposed to do to like...show them you like them."

All of the air rushed out of Castiel's lungs in shock, of course Dean had never had a boyfriend; someone that good looking would never want to settle down unless they met someone special. Was Cas special?

"The hugging was a good start," Cas offered softly, jumping when he went to grip the edge of the keyboard and accidentally hit one of the keys with his thumb. "Shit! Sorrysorry, so this isn't...Charlie didn't tell you?"

He was referring to Charlie opening her big ol' mouth and blabbing to Dean that Cas had heard him talking in the Abuse Survivor's group because frankly, it seemed like something that Charlie would do in an effort to protect the other patient from him. Surely other people had to see how bad he was for Dean, how easily he could hurt the other man all over again simply because he had no idea what he was doing. So why weren't they warning him?

"Tell me what?" Dean asked suddenly, wary and alert which Castiel thought was more like it; a secret part hoping that Dean would just sense the disease pouring off of Cas and know to stay away from now on because he didn't have the strength to tell Dean to go. "Seriously, dude. If I'm making you uncomfortable or if you don't like me that way, just say something. Yea you're like the most perfect guy I've ever seen, but I like to think that twenty-one years of life have prepared me for being turned down."

"You're the perfect one!" Cas exclaimed, his eyes pricking with frustration that Dean obviously didn't know how wonderful he was even as he resolved to say it everyday until the dumbass got it through his thick, perfect blonde head. "Shit Dean...seriously? I'd be a moron to turn you down, but I'm just...I'll just let you down, but not like that. I mean like...disappoint you and stuff. I'll disappoint you, Dean; I disappoint everyone."

"How cheesy would it be if I said I'm willing to take that chance?" Dean asked after a long silence that stretched out long enough for Castiel to seriously consider how hard he would have to hit one of the chicken-wire windows with a chair in order to break it so that he could escape.

"Not cheesy," Cas replied, aiming for light-hearted and just sounding hysterical when he let out a high-pitched laugh. He felt light-headed in a good way, like his heart was racing with endorphins and adrenaline and all of those other fantastic chemicals that were triggered when people ate chocolate or fell in love. "But I need you to tell me if I fuck up, okay? If you ever...if you ever get tired of how my shit smells you have to tell me."

"That's…"Dean began, frowning in confusion before he raised a hand and scrubbed it through his hair and then down over his face as he started to laugh. "That's a super gross sentiment, Cas. But yea, I'll tell you. I think that Charlie and Missouri would murder me if I didn't 'use my feeling words' as much as possible in this situation. I'm not joking when I say I'm out of my depth with you, sweetheart."

"Yea, me too," Castiel admitted softly, blushing down at the keyboard before a jumble of people led by a scruffy, flannel wearing man with at least three days worth of stubble flooded into the room and towards the chairs where they were sitting.

"Awww, dude!" the scruffy man exclaimed, his visitor's badge swinging on his neck as he gestured expansively at where Cas was sitting frozen at the keyboard. "Yes! Now I can play the guitar like God always intended me to do. You, Elton John, you're on ivory duties until further notice; everyone else, pick an instrument and we'll start with 'Bohemian Rhapsody' because it's gonna get us _pumped!_ And then we'll throw out ideas and vote, 'kay? Who's singing this week? Crowley?"

Cas watched as Charlie settled into a seat next to Dean with a pair of bongos clutched tightly to her chest and Becky snatched up one of the battered bass guitars before sitting next to Ash on the front row who was looking forlornly at the triangle that he had ended up with for wandering in at the back of the group. Dean winked at him and it was enough to drown out the whispering voice in his head that was starting up again; saying that he would break the other man worse than any other person ever had, even if he didn't mean to do it.

"Hey uh...An...dy?" Castiel asked, tugging on the smallish man's shirt sleeve to get his attention. He guessed at the name because even though he had heard it he wasn't sure if he had it right, but the dopey grin he got soothed his fears that he had made some sort of social faux pas. "Can I uh...request a song we play next?"

"Yea dude," Andy mumbled out, scratching at his chin as the rest of the group started clamoring impatiently with their instruments. "Just stick to something familiar, the musical tastes of this group are pretty scattered. But don't force top 40s down my throat man, I'm more of a classics guy so at least spare me Lady Gaga."

"I was thinking The Beatles," Cas admitted, glancing at Dean who was talking and laughing with Charlie; smiling at him whenever their eyes caught before turning back to the girl sitting next to him. He had a song in mind, it reminded him of all of them, but mostly Dean and he didn't know anything by Led Zepplin so that was out for sure. Cas just hoped like hell that he wasn't about to fuck this up, but he was sure of the fact that the other patient would tell him if he did. "You know 'Hey Jude' right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't figured it out yet...this fic is going to have the slowest build evvvvvver. But in between all of that there will be fluff and cuteness and undeniably awkwadorable Dean and Cas, so yea you should stick around for that. Also thanks to everyone for reading and commenting (seriously, go comment I want to hear from you) and if you want you can come see me on tumblr itspronounceddeathsteel. A friend and I are doing a Tumblraward give-away thingy with pretty rad prizes so yea...love you guys!


	21. Chapter 21

Castiel figured that he should tell Dean to stay away from him. He really really should.

Because it really would be better for all of them and he knew he was just going to end up hurting Dean despite what the other man might say about letting him know if he was fucking up. Mostly because he had a chance to think about it while he was playing, watching how happy Dean looked banging his tambourine on Charlie's bongos every time the redhead looked away and he realized that Dean was way too nice of a person to actually tell him if he did something wrong because it was really only a matter of time before he _did_ do something wrong. He also realized that the other man wouldn't run away from Cas even if he sat him down and listed out all of the reasons why his was poison and awful and just downright detrimental to Dean's health. Because Dean was a good person who liked him for some strange reason and Cas was horrible.

But judging by the look of shock on Dean's face when Cas cut off Crowley, who in all fairness was butchering the fuck out of _Hey Jude_ , to sing the song himself in his wavering baritone, maybe it wasn't going to come as such a surprise when he finally broke the news to the other patient that he was not a good person at all. Because as soon as Cas was done singing and the obligatory round of polite applause had rained down on him from the rest of the assembled patients, everyone getting up and returning their borrowed instruments to Andy before meandering off one by one or in small groups, Dean just sat there and stared.

Stared with the most stricken expression on his face while Cas nervously twisted the hem of his t-shirt in his hands as he tried to smile when Charlie and Ash and Becky clustered around him to tell him how awesome he was. The funniest thing was, the praise wasn't anything he hadn't heard before and he didn't believe it in high school so he wasn't going to believe it now and he really really did plan on verbally confirming all of the horrible realizations that were undoubtedly rushing through Dean's head because even though he knew he wasn't good enough for the other man he wished that he were and maybe he could start taking the steps to being good enough by warning Dean away from him.

So he was breathing hard and sweating again and yea the nausea was back in full fucking force when Dean got up and started moving towards him and their group with hesitant, unwilling steps. Because even though he knew that Dean figuring out how terrible he was was what _needed_ to happen, its not necessarily what he _wanted_ to happen. He wasn't even making sense in his own head anymore and he knew it, but all he could see was the way that Dean was staring at him like he had just noticed that Cas was a serial killer or something and he didn't know if he could handle hearing the other man telling him, 'Nevermind, let's not do...this. This is a bad idea.'

"Dude," Ash drawled giving Castiel a rousing slap on the back as he spoke, though Cas didn't really feel it; he was too busy watching the way that Dean was watching him with wide eyes and cupid's bow lips parted in either horror or disgust or some other emotion that normal people usually reserved for people who abused kittens. "That was the coolest shit ever! It was like a musical flashmob when everyone joined in on the 'nahnahnah' part. I wish I had my phone so I could've Youtubed that shit, I will never be involved in anything that cool ever again."

"It was nothing," Cas mumbled, ignoring the shrewd way that Charlie and Becky were both looking back and forth between him and Dean as he chewed on the corner of his bottom lip where a piece of chapped skin had started to peel up. "Seriously, I didn't plan for that to happen. It's just a popular song."

"But dude, I thought Dick was going to start crying," Ash continued, making expansive gestures with his hands as Castiel got to his feet and fidgeted with his clothes and his glasses and his hair and pretty much anything that was attached to his person that could possibly be fidgeted with. Dean was approaching them and was still staring like...well, like he hadn't ever seen him before and that was probably about to break his heart. "And then fucking Martin came in here probably to yell at us to be quiet because he's always yelling about us being loud and he was speechless man! He just rolled his eyes and walked out, you're a god."

Cas couldn't even shrug or shake his head to deny the praise that the other patient was lavishing on him because Dean had stopped next to Charlie, pretty much as far away as he could get while still being part of their clustered group, and started tugging on the rolled sleeve of the flannel shirt that the other girl was wearing. He knew that Ash was still speaking, but he was too focused on the way that Dean ducked his head to whisper in Charlie's ear, not taking his eyes off Castiel even as the redhead's own eyes widened in shock from whatever she was being told.

God, it was probably bad. Dean was probably telling Charlie that Cas was weird and creepy and too strange to even want to contemplate being in a...whatever with and asking her to tell Cas to kindly stay the fuck away from him. Because he had just wanted to play Dean a fucking song that meant something to him and it had turned into this whole _thing_ for pretty much everyone except for the person it was meant for. Maybe he should've played a Led Zepplin song or something, maybe Dean hated The Beatles; there were people out there who hated The Fab Four right?

"Hey uh, Cas?" And that was Charlie, which when had she stopped talking to Dean? He had been watching Dean, fucking focused on Dean and now the other man was leaving the room with his sure-footed, swaggering, bow-legged stride and it was taking everything Cas had to not go chasing have the other man. God, what had he done wrong? "I think um, that book you had earlier? Yea, it's in my room if you want to go get it or whatever."

"Is Dean mad at me? Where is he going? Did I do something wrong?" Castiel asked quickly, his heart beating hard in his chest because they had _just_ talked about this; Dean using his feeling words or whatever and both of them admitting they were clueless.

"I really think you should just calm down," Charlie said, stepping in closer to him as she looked pointedly over her shoulder to where Missouri was lurking in the doorway, her gaze tracking back and forth between Castiel and Dean as the other patient excused his way past her and continued in the direction of the nurses' station. "Maybe take a deep breath or seven. In and out, that's right; just like that. Now, Cas, I _really_ think you would feel better if you went and got your book out of my room."

At some point she had put her hands on either side of his face and squished his cheeks together, but Castiel couldn't even find it in himself to care because she was glaring at him. Glaring at him like she was trying to tell him something that he really should be smart enough to figure out; he had a 4.0 GPA goddamnit, he should be able to decipher her cryptic lady-speak.

"We're not supposed to go into each other's rooms," he mumbled, furrowing his brows and giving her his most confused puppy dog eyes so that she would take pity on him and just tell him what he had done now to make Dean mad at him.

Charlie rolled her eyes and gave him a brisk, light slap on his cheek before letting go of his face and urging him towards the doorway where Missouri was still standing and watching him with a calculating expression on her face. "Cas, I'm not gonna tell if you won't. Just go."

He was so busy nodding at her that he managed to stumble nervously over his own feet as he tried to slip past Missouri on his way out of the day area. The doctor just watched his egress with a cooly raised eyebrow and thankfully, didn't question where he was going or why because honestly he had no idea why Charlie wanted him to read his dad's book so badly. Maybe she wanted to borrow it or something. It didn't matter anyway; all Cas could think about as he walked down the hallway towards the other patient's bedroom was the wounded, open, raw way that Dean had looked as he had sang and played the rising crescendo of 'betters' in _Hey Jude._ He had never wanted to put that expression on Dean's face ever, but he had still managed to do it in less than a day. Go Team Failure!

Castiel took the long way around the unit, going past his own room where he seriously considered just staying; crawling into bed until he figured out how to fix whatever he had done wrong this time, but he figured that if anyone deserved to lash out at him with entirely righteous anger it was Dean. Maybe he should just fess up about the whole using Dean in his fantasies thing, put it out there in the open so that the other patient could be mad about everything all at once and then Cas could know where he stood because all of the fucking mind games and shit were getting to him. His parent's marriage had been one based on open communication, even if it meant they weren't speaking because they were mad, and he had always wanted that with someone; maybe he could see how it felt to have that with Dean.

He was rounding the last corner towards Charlie's room, shoulders slumping in preemptive defeat when he didn't see Dean in the rec room where Dick and Crowley were already playing a very violent looking video game in the most disturbingly relaxed way possible. The other man was probably hiding from him, hoping that Cas would maybe take the hint and stay as far away from him as possible until one or both of them discharged.

That would be easier wouldn't it? Except he didn't want to stay away from Dean, he would if he was asked, but god it would probably kill him inside just a little bit. It had been a long time since he had felt like there was anything left alive about himself that could be killed; needless to say the thought of that life being all in Dean's hands was freaking him the fuck out.

It scared him almost as much as being tugged into Dean and Charlie's room once he had reached it did. Because getting slammed back against the door hard enough that the air was knocked out of him by a Dean who had half-wild eyes and hair that was sticking up in all directions like he had been running his fingers through it was really the last thing he expected. The other man's hands were planted firmly on his chest, one curving over his collarbone and the other right on top of his rapidly beating heart.

"Cas," Dean breathed, gaze flickering all over his face like his green eyes couldn't decide what he wanted to look at first. "Do you...fuck...do you know? Just...Jesus...I can't, Cas. I just…"

"I'm sorr-"Castiel began only to be startled back so his head rapped sharply against the door when Dean angled his face and moved in closer until the larger man's body was what was pressing him into the wood at his back instead of just his hands.

Instead of pressing their lips together like-Okay, let's be honest. Like Cas had hoped they would, Dean brought his face close enough that Castiel could feel the other man's breath on his cheek, the sting of stubble sliding in counterpoint to his own as Dean brushed his nose intimately across his jaw and down his throat until he settled his face in the crook of his neck with an almost pained sounding sigh. And it was nice, weird because he hadn't been expecting it but warm and just so...right.

So Cas settled his hands stiffly on the small of Dean's back and thanked whoever might be listening that he had the foresight to jerk off at least once earlier in the day because it was making it easier to calm down his libido that was raging at him from the dimmest recesses of his mind. He was conflicted though because he had really thought that Dean was mad at him and now he was saying stuff about how he couldn't something but also glomming onto him all malleable and comforting which he had not been expecting at all. Okay, he might have just a bit of a conflict boner which was was he was going to call it forever and always now because it was unlikely that he would ever get his head on straight.

Dean mumbled unintelligibly into the neckline of his shirt and relaxed even more of his weight into him as Castiel fought valiantly to shift into a position where he could comfortably cradle Dean against his chest without his legs eventually starting to tremble under their combined weight. He cleared his throat and allowed himself the indulgence of flexing his fingers into the divots at the base of Dean's spine; trying and failing to NOT remember exactly why it was that he wasn't allowing himself to touch Dean's hips because he had just fucking dealt with this and he hadn't had _that_ kind of refractory period since he was in junior high.

"Uh, what was that again, Dean?" Cas managed to ground out around the groan that was threatening to tear its way out of his throat.

The other patient sighed damply into his neck before pulling back and meeting Cas's eyes; dropping his gaze almost immediately as the tan-freckled skin flushed crimson under Castiel's scrutiny. "I uh...I said I could stay here all day. But everyone would probably think that we're uh...doing more than just hugging, y'know? And I um...I don't think I'm ready for Charlie and Becky to be jumping to those kind of conclusions just yet. I mean...I hardly know you."

"Yea," Castiel replied, frowning at how much sense that made. Because even though he was drawn to Dean- to his soft-spoken confidence that was still human and faulty and real, to his eyes and his hands and the way he bit his lip when he was unsure, to the way every interaction he had with the other man was easy and not full of mind games and riddles that made him question whether or not he was just Meg's back-up back-up plan for when she and Balthazar finally had a fight that they couldn't come back from-he still hardly knew anything about Dean. "I guess that makes sense. I mean, I was freaking out just now because I thought you didn't like The Beatles and that's just weird because who doesn't like The Beatles."

"Dude, you have no idea," Dean mumbled, his blush spreading to his ears and down his neck in a way that Castiel just wanted to trace to see how far it went past the other man's collar. "I heard you sing that other song, but I had no idea, Cas. That song...you just...it means a lot to me, that song and you were just great."

 _How is this my life?_ Cas thought to himself as Dean glanced up at him shyly while he traced his thumb over the jut of his collarbone; expecting him to react _how_ to the praise that he had just been given by someone whose opinion he actually gave a shit about? He honestly had no idea, because it was just such a novel experience.

Speaking of…

"Charlie said my book was in here," Castiel began, smirking at how cute the guilty expression that skirted over Dean's features was. "Now is it or was that just an elaborate ruse to get me alone so that you could glom onto me? It's welcome glomming by the way, feel free to glom anytime the glomming urge strikes you. In fact, if we are in the same general vicinity I will be disappointed in there is no intense huggature going on."

Dean let out an amused snort, tucking his face into Cas's neck for just another moment where he inhaled deeply before moving across the room to an unmade bed that Castiel could only assume was Dean's because the other empty bed had Charlie's copy of _The Hobbit_ sitting on her pillow; right where it had been when the girl had shown him Dean's drawings and his day had gotten a whole hell of a lot better.

The other man ducked down, sprawling width-wise across the messy blankets in an effort to pick up something that was on the floor on the other side and Castiel definitely did not take the opportunity to stare at Dean's butt. Even though it was a pretty fucking perfect opportunity, he had taken advantage of the other man enough for one day, thank you. Castiel made a show of looking idly at the assorted toiletries that were sitting on one of the dressers by the time Dean popped back up and ambled towards him with his book in hand.

"I didn't want it to get picked up by someone else," Dean explained, turning the book over in his hands to look at the back of the dust jacket as he stopped near where Castiel was standing. "And uh...well I figured you could use it as an excuse to be alone with me if you wanted to be. I was hoping you would want to be, but then you took off after I said that thing about your hair and you weren't at lunch and stuff so I just...I don't know. I told you I suck at this kind of stuff."

"I don't think you suck," Castiel disagreed softly, his heart soaring when Dean smiled widely at him and slid an arm around his shoulders; steering them towards the door as he continued to read the reviews from various news publications that were on the back of the book. "I just think we both need to get used to this being a thing, liking each other. Because being liked back is a pretty new experience for me, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it."

"Having the ability to like someone at all when you never thought you could is my problem," Dean replied nonchalantly and okay _that_ was a thing.

Cas tried to reason out how that could work as Dean's hand slid back down his arm so that the other patient could open the door for him; still distractedly reading the dust jacket of his father's book as they walked out into the hallway. Maybe Dean had never genuinely liked any of his hookups before, maybe they were emotionless little rendezvous that Dean had used as a way to just figure out that he was gay. Because how else did you know unless you put the urges into practice? Castiel still wasn't even sure what he was and he had fucking fantasized about Dean just hours ago.

"This looks super depressing," Dean stated beside him, their arms brushing together as they moved down the hallway towards the nurses' station; the other man was reading the inside flap of the dust jacket now and Cas smiled to himself when he realized Dean's lips were moving as he read silently to himself. "Maybe this is your problem right here. It's like one heartfelt confrontation away from being an Oprah Book Club book."

"I'll let my dad know that he's marketing to the wrong group then, he should be targeting the unhappy housewife demographic," Castiel replied, laughing when Dean's expression immediately changed to one of shock and disbelief. "Seriously though, his other books are better; he just wrote this one at a rough time."

"You're shitting me," Dean declared, staring down at the book in his hands like it had personally offended him before quickly turning it over and opening it again so that he could read the author blurb that was on the inside of the back of the book.

Castiel knew that it was purposefully vague, but his dad had always made a point of mentioning all of his kids as well as his wife, leaving out the kind of details that made it easy for overzealous fans to track you down and wait outside your house to pounce on you. Cas could only remember that having happened once when he was about six and luckily there had been a mounted policeman nearby to keep the strange man away from him and Gabe as their dad had walked them to their nearby elementary school.

Even as an adult the fact that his dad could be stalked or have hoards of fans raving after him was still pretty surreal. His dad was just that guy who wore a bathrobe 70% of the time and didn't have to shave because he worked from home and told really terrible jokes just like every other dad he knew. Seeing people like Meg and Balthazar get all star-struck once they realized that Carver Edlund was just plain ol' Chuck Shurley was more than a little uncomfortable for him and he hoped that Dean wasn't about to do the same thing. He didn't even know why he was telling Dean who his dad was in the first place, it's not like they were ever going to meet or anything.

"Carver Edlund is not a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. He is not very attractive, nor does he always remember to put the toilet seat down (much to his wife's chagrin)," Dean read out loud as they rounded the corner to see Andy heading out the door with two guitar cases in his hands, Jo and Garth following behind with various other instruments; Bobby and Ellen were ensconced behind the nurses' stations now.

"He is however the author of this book as well as several others, he is a father and a husband, he is a proud cat owner, and he thinks he makes a damn fine omelet despite what his son says. His wife makes art; his kids are a social rights activist, the Swedish chef, figuring it out, and a walking, talking Degas respectively. He is human and fragile and broken, please do not judge him for being just like you."

Castiel cringed when Dean read over the part about him still figuring it out; that had been what his dad had put after asking each of them what they would like the blurb to say about them and Cas had just replied with a shrug because he didn't know what else he was besides a boring, would-be accountant. It sounded so much less interesting compared to what Mike and Gabe and Anna had come up with and he had hoped that his dad would at least take pity on him and tell him what he was _supposed_ to be, but Chuck Shurley had never been one for giving his kids the easy way out. And his mom had told him that there was no shame in being a twenty-one year old who still didn't have their life together even though he had just spent the last five years getting asked by everyone about what he wanted to do with his life and he had thought he had known at one point but now…

Okay, maybe she hadn't said all of that. It had been more of a motherly pat on the arm before she had rushed back to the bathroom because she had just started chemo and it was making her really really sick. His stomach clenched in sympathy for someone who wasn't even alive anymore, but he tried to focus back on Dean so that the nausea would go away and stay away because he just wanted to feel okay for a little bit and being around Dean seemed to help with that.

"So are you the chef or the activist?" Dean asked, nudging him in the side as he smirked at him. "I mean not that you couldn't pull off the whole tutu and leotard thing that ballerinas do...what do they call male ballerinas anyway? Ballerinos?"

"In Italian," Castiel answered, grinning when Dean gave him a shocked look. "And its usually just ballet dancer, y'know gender neutral and all. But no, that's my sister, Anna is the Degas. And um, my older brother is the activist, sort of; Michael does a bunch of charity work and gets his company to donate big bucks all over the place. Gabriel is the chef, he actually has a cooking show and a restaurant and his girlfri- fiance, works with him and he helps her cater and stuff. It's pretty disgusting how cute they are. Guess my dad will have to put Kali in his blurb next time…"

"So you're 'figuring it out'?" Dean asked, glancing back at the paragraph of text as he asked probably to make sure that he got the phrase right instead of just saying 'loser' like Castiel figured the other man probably wanted to.

Cas scoffed miserably as they made their way to the couch that Charlie and Becky had claimed in the day area, Ash was off to the side playing and from the looks of it losing a game of ping pong with Ruby. "Yea, story of my life.

"Dude who's not?" Dean replied easily, plopping down on the couch as Becky got up and moved to a nearby chair on Charlie's other side. The other man patted the vacated seat beside him, immediately draping his arm around the back of Castiel's shoulders once he had sat down gingerly after glancing around to make sure that Missouri wasn't around. "Girls, what are we watching?"

"I think its a re-run of _Everybody Loves Raymond_ ," Charlie declared with a sneer and it took Cas just a second to realize that they were talking about what was playing on the television mounted in the corner of the room, the sound just a droning undercurrent compared to the rest of the noise in the day area.

"Ugh," Dean groaned, throwing his head back dramatically giving Cas the opportunity to admire the other man's profile and the taunt muscles in his neck; he had to get as much ogling in as possible before he didn't have Dean to ogle any more. "We always miss _Dr. Sexy_ on Tuesdays and Thursdays! I should ask Missouri if she'll move the groups around so I can watch it everyday."

"We'd have better luck if Cas asked her," Becky said with a snort causing Castiel to frown in confusion because he was pretty sure the therapist had threatened his life earlier so he didn't think that she wouldn't be doing him any favors. "He's been here the least amount of time, anyone else and she'll say she can't show special treatment even though she totally does all the time. No doctor I've ever had has cared enough to do the kind of stuff that she does."

"I hear that," Charlie declared, putting up a hand for a high five that the other girl immediately reciprocated. "But she probably wouldn't do it for Cas either, because she would know that he's asking for Dean."

"Maybe I want to watch _Dr. Sexy_ too," Cas argued across Dean's lap, his fingers itching to reach out and put his hand on Dean's knee, but he didn't know if that would be okay and he was still determined to redeem himself by letting the other man make each and every move first; he wouldn't even hold Dean's hand unless the other man reached for him first. "Maybe it's my favorite show, maybe I own every season."

Beside him Dean let out a bark of laughter and pressed his face into Castiel's shoulder until his giggles subsided. When the other man pulled back his eyes were all crinkles at the corners and his smile was so big it makes Cas's heart flop over his his chest. "If that's true then we're totally going to have to have a marathon at your place once we're all out."

"We'll order pizza!" Charlie declared loudly before turning back to Becky and chattering excitedly about how great it was going to be once she had discharged and was on her own again.

"Or it can just be the two of us," Dean mumbled, a blush crawling up his neck as he glanced back at Charlie and Becky to see if they were paying attention to him; they weren't. "It can be like...yea, just us if you want."

No one had ever asked him on a date, not that he thought that that was what this was because let's be realistic; Dean was going to get bored of him probably sooner rather than later and Cas didn't want to get his hopes up. But he could pretend that maybe that's what Dean was trying to do, even though he didn't really have all of the seasons of _Dr. Sexy_ since he had never really watched it simply because Meg hated that show and she talked all the time about how only losers and desperate virgins watched it, but Dean was neither of those things and fuck he would fucking download the whole thing if it meant hanging out with Dean outside of this place even if it was in a group or alone or whatever. He would fucking risk being picked up by the piracy police for Dean.

"Uh, yea," Cas blurted loudly, causing Becky and Charlie to glance at him before going to their conversation a couple of seconds later. He still lowered his voice though, just in case they were still listening. "I uh...I want that. That would be cool."

"Awesome," Dean breathed, turning back to engage Charlie and Becky in conversation again; the hand that had been resting on Castiel's shoulder sliding to the back of his neck and Cas felt the other man's fingers toy with the hair at his nape.

And god, it felt perfect. This was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a little short, but I was struggling with adding some more so I'm just going to post this and then move on to something else to give my brain a break for a bit. Let me know what you're thinking, if there's something you want to see. I have no idea how long this fic is going to because I've turned roughly three days into 21 chapters...so...it might be super long, whatever. Much love to everyone who is recovering from the finale, I feel you there. Til next time! XO


	22. Chapter 22

It was easy to slip back into whatever this thing was with Dean. Hell, after freaking out all afternoon it was certainly not a hardship to just sit there and let Dean play with his hair and then hold his hand and then snuggle up against his shoulder, muttering that he was going to shut his eyes for just a second. And he probably should've felt really creepy for watching Dean doze, surely Meg would've called him on it if she had caught him watching her nap on the sofa back at the apartment, but he didn't think that Dean would mind since the other man had declared him the perfect pillow as he had slipped off to sleep.

"I saw you," Becky said softly from where she had moved to sit on Dean's other side, taking the seat that Charlie had vacated when the redhead went to go play ping-pong with Ash against Ruby and Lilith. She was reading one of the broken-spined mysteries off of the bookshelves in the common room, but Cas was pretty sure it was a cover for her to observe everyone else without being noticed.

But that one little statement made his body clench in terror because what exactly had she seen?

He was pretty sure that he had closed the door all the way earlier when he was...yea. He had, he knew he had because Charlie had been waiting outside afterward. And there wasn't much else that she could have seen him do that would make her look at him the way she was looking at him right now, with a sort of restrained sadness only there was a hint of defiance in the set of her jaw when she glanced down at Dean who was breathing heavy and steady with his face turned towards Cas's neck.

"I know you heard him talking in our group," the girl whispered with a protective lilt to her voice. "I saw you in the doorway and I saw your face after you realized what he…"

Becky paused when Dean stirred against Castiel's shoulder, covering her mouth with her fingertips when Dean frowned and shifted so that his arm that was between them was pressed along the length of Cas's leg, hand curled inwards on his knee. They both watch the other patient until he settled, making sure that Dean wasn't awake before looking back at each other.

Becky's eyes had softened towards Cas and she brought her hand down from her mouth to cover her throat, taking a couple of deep breaths before attempting to speak again.

"Listen, Dean's been treated pretty shitty by people whose whole purpose was supposed to be protecting him and caring about him. But he's stronger than people give him credit for and the last thing he wants is pity, so if that's why you're doing," Becky waved her free hand towards where the two men were pressed together. "This. Well, then just don't."

"It's not pity," Castiel assured her quickly, glancing down at Dean whose mouth had fallen open and he couldn't even bring himself to care that he was probably going to get drool on his new shirt; maybe this is what caring about someone was supposed to feel like. Meg would probably vomit if he drooled on her. "I like him, I think I really really like him. I just don't want to screw this up."

"Well," Becky said cautiously, her mouth twitching. " _I_ think you're doing okay so far, but what do I know? I mean, you don't have to like someone to fuck them, right?"

"I guess," Castiel said, forcing a smile over his grimace because he wasn't really in any place to judge how Becky coped with her shit. Was it healthy? Probably not, but it also wasn't any of his business either. "Just uh...should I tell him I heard him or is that just going to make him hate me?"

The other patient paused thoughtfully, her brow furrowed for a moment as she looked at Dean before she sucked in a sharp breath and nodded quickly. "Yea, you should tell him. Maybe not that you heard him, but that you saw him in group or something through the window. He might not talk to you about it, but it would probably be way worse for him if he found out from someone else that you're freaked out about it."

"I'm not freaked out," Castiel lied. He was so fucking freaked out it hurt, but not for the reasons everyone probably thought he would be. "I just don't want to make anything harder for him than it already is."

"Then definitely talk to him," Becky said with a sage nod before turning back to her book.

Dean didn't stir until dinner time when Charlie came over and shook his shoulder, rousing the other patient from where he had curled up with Cas's arm around his shoulders and his head tucked underneath the dark haired man's chin. Cas may have been too busy forming new constellations out of the freckles on Dean's face to have noticed what time it was, but that didn't stop the other man from giving him a grin as he shook off Cas's apology for not waking him sooner.

"No worries, Cas," Dean said with a yawn, running a hand through the hair on the side of his head that had flattened while he slept before clambering to his feet. "Best nap I've had in ages. C'mon sweetheart, you must be starving."

On cue his empty stomach rumbled painfully and Cas pressed his palm to it as he followed Dean towards the cafeteria. Had he really not eaten since breakfast? It seemed so long ago, but Cas had to remind himself that time moved different here. Things were different here. _He_ was different here or maybe at least he could be, if he tried.

Watching Dean pull out his chair for him before taking his regular seat at the head of the table made him really really want to try. He wanted to get better for himself of course, for his family and the few friends that he had left, but getting to maybe keep Dean if he could get it together was just...what had the other man called it? _Incentive._ It was something extra special and wonderful that might not be completely unattainable and he resolved to actually talk to Missouri about whatever she decided they should talk about if it meant he would continue to have this warm chest expanding feeling and keep it.

"And then there were three," Charlie declared ominously, popping her knuckles as she glowered menacingly at Dean and Castiel for about two seconds before the expression broke and she let out a giggle. "We're playing right? I've decided I want ice cream when I win and I know you can get it Dean so I'm ready to bring the pain."

Dean scoffed and shrugged in reply, nodding thanks at Ellen when she sidled up to drop their trays off to them ruffling Dean's hair affectionately as she went before moving on to Crowley and Dick who seemed to be arm wrestling at the table next to them, attracting quite a group of gawkers as a result. Cas looked down at his meatloaf and mashed potatoes that he didn't remember ordering, but at this point he would eat anything and he certainly wasn't going to complain when Dean handed over his tea and roll that his own chicken strips had come with without any prompting.

"I have no idea what I would want if I win," Castiel admitted sheepishly, fighting the urge to just smash his face into his tray because since his body was getting used to eating again it was not happy with him that he had skipped lunch and then thrown up the remains of his breakfast. "So maybe I should just bow out gracefully."

"NO!" Dean shouted beside him, one of the other man's hands suddenly gripping his knee tight underneath the table while the other paused midway towards his mouth with a french fry. "I-I mean, don't quit. You're doing so well, Cas."

"Well what do you want if you win?" He asked the other man, squinting in confusion when Dean blushed suddenly and quickly released his knee with a parting little pat before purposefully using both of his hands to tear his chicken strips into bite size pieces.

"I have a few ideas," Dean mumbled, earning a snort from Ash farther down the table before the other man raised his cup of pills in Dean's direction like a salute and then downed them dry.

"Don't worry, Cas," Charlie sniggered from across the table, flicking a pea at Dean as she spoke. "I'll share my ice cream with you. So, I'll go first. Megan Leigh, actress, gunshot."

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Ash wondered aloud from the end of the table, turning towards Becky who just shrugged and continued munching loudly on her taco salad.

"Not important," Charlie answered before raising a challenging eyebrow at Dean who was systematically coating the french fry he was holding with ketchup, cheeks still tinged pink for reasons that Cas couldn't fathom but still deeply appreciated. Dean was so cute when he was blushing. "Are we playing Dean? Or are you scared?"

Charlie made a soft bawking sound when Dean hesitated, biting his lip before he broke and tossed his ketchup covered fry at her.

"Jerk," Dean muttered, pushing up the sleeves of Cas's cardigan that he was still wearing as he straightened back up in his seat. "Fine, but I'm not going down without a fight. Jeff Alm, football player, shot himself."

"Why do you even know a football player?" Charlie asked with a frown, pointing her fork suspiciously at Dean. "You hated football in high school."

"My Dad likes the Tennessee Titans," Dean explained with a shrug, smirking cheekily at all of the other assembled patients. "We might have a couple coffee table books about the team's history. I might learned how to draw muscles from it, moving on."

Castiel plucked at the front of his shirt and tried not to let it bother him that Dean had probably done much more than just learn how to draw when he had been looking at pictures of hunky footballers when he was younger. He had never been especially muscle-bound himself, but he knew that not eating had taken its toll on the fairly decent definition that he had once had. That just made his fantasy from earlier seem even more ridiculous and ill-advised in retrospect; Dean might like his face or his hair, but everything else would surely, eventually be a deal breaker.

"Oh my god!" Ash exclaimed suddenly, standing up from his chair with a loud screech that echoed around the cafeteria. "Megan Leigh is a porn star! A super hot, 90s, lesbian porn star. Charlie, marry me."

"Ugh, god no," the redhead said quickly, shaking her head at the other man as he fell to his knees beside her. "And thank you, for announcing my porn proclivities to everyone. You're a real pal there, _Miles._ "

"Low blow," Ash said affrontedly, sulking back to his seat with a betrayed grimace on his face.

"Gary Speed," Cas announced, drawing everyone's attention back towards him. "Soccer player, so different kind of football I guess. Hanging."

"Bet your legs are ripped," Dean muttered, going scarlet again before he bit his lip hard and glanced up at Castiel from underneath his eyelashes. "I uh...I mean I should've guessed you'd be into soccer or lacrosse or some other kind of prep school sport."

"I went to public school, thank you very much," he replied knocking his knee into Dean's thigh, earning a soft chuckle from the other man before Dean just grinned sheepishly at him. "Writer's don't make _that_ much money. And actually it was my brother Michael who was into soccer. He had all these posters of David Beckham and Speed and other soccer guys all over his room when he was in high school. I guess I just absorbed it all from him."

"Dude, I don't think Sammy has ever absorbed anything from me," Dean said leaning towards Cas as he spoke and Castiel reciprocated the move unconsciously, not realizing that his glasses were slipping down his nose until the other man reached out and pushed them back up for him. "That kid is way cooler than I ever was at that age."

"I don't know Dean," Charlie mused thoughtfully, tapping on her lips with her fork. "I thought you were pretty cool, but I was a loser. Everyone was cool to me."

"That's very uplifting, Charlie, thank you." Dean muttered sarcastically, earning a snort from Castiel.

"You're welcome," the redhead piped. "But if it helps your opinion was the only one I cared about then too. All those other assholes can blow me."

"Anatomy," Ash drawled craning his neck to look over at burst of girlish laughter that came suddenly from another corner of the room.

"Semantics," Charlie dismissed with a wave of her hand before reaching over to pat Dean's cheek. "Dean was my bestie and I'm happy we're together again, even if its here."

"God, you're giving me a complex with all of the compliments and shit," Dean said with a sigh, leaning into the other woman's touch for a second before he cleared his throat and went back to picking at his food; ankle snaking around Cas's underneath the table until their legs were wrapped together. "Just stop it. It's not like I'll never see you again."

"What are you two talking about now?" Becky asked, waving a finger between Dean and Charlie suspiciously. "I swear its like you two have a secret roommate language sometimes that none of the rest of us know about."

"She's freaking out about her interview," Dean explained, turning purposefully towards Charlie and speaking pointedly at the redhead. "Which she shouldn't be because even if where you live changes it doesn't mean anything else has to change."

Charlie shrugged unconvinced, but stayed otherwise quiet and Cas sensed that this was an argument that had been going on between Dean and the other girl probably since the second Charlie has walked out of Missouri's office with the news that she might be leaving. He could also tell that Dean was more invested in what happened to the redhead then he was letting on, if the way the other man's leg was bouncing up and down against his was any indication of how much anxiety Dean was channeling to any other part of his body besides his face.

"Dude, her interview isn't even until, when? Friday?" Ash asked, nudging Charlie with his elbow as he spoke so that she would stop frowning down at her peas and carrots like they had mortally offended her. "Pssssh, days away. So stop acting like someone died, Char. The sooner you get out of here and get your own place, the sooner we can all have debauched house parties that you have to clean up. Am I the only one who sees the potential here?"

The other girl narrowed her eyes at Ash and stuck her tongue out at him before her face broke out into a suddenly sharkish grin, "Helen Geisel, writer, OD'd on sedatives."

"Oh, right in my childhood," Ash said woundedly, getting to his feet and grabbing his tray off of the table with one hand. "Ex-cuse me for trying to find the silver lining."

"I don't get it," Becky pouted as Ash slouched his way out of the cafeteria; Cas could almost hear that sad _Charlie Brown_ music playing as he went. "Who's Helen Geisel?"

"Better known as Mrs. Dr. Seuss," Cas explained as Dean just shook his head disapprovingly at Charlie who had gone back to calmly eating her food with an innocent expression on her face.

"Awww, Charlie. Mean," Becky cooed disapprovingly before fleeing from the table after Ash, leaving her own tray behind.

"That was low, Bradbury," Dean admonished once they were both gone. "He was just trying to make you feel better."

"Well, I don't particularly want to feel better about leaving here, okay?" the redhead snapped suddenly, dropping her head until her hair swung forward to cover her face. "I just...I don't want to get my hopes up and it not work out, 'kay? Can we leave it alone now?"

"No we can't," Dean said simply, turning to Castiel who had been trying to think of something to say that might make Charlie feel better. "You said you talked to your sister already about Charlie borrowing some clothes? Right, Cas?"

"Yea," he agreed quickly, racking his brain to remember what exactly Anna had told him the night before on the phone. "Remember, Charlie? Hilary Clinton pantsuits? Oh, and she said she would give my brother some jewelry to bring that goes with the clothes too."

"My ears aren't pierced," Charlie said despondently, pushing her half-eaten tray away towards the center of the table. "And I don't know what to do with my hair or how to do makeup because my mom didn't teach me before she-before. I'm just the most pathetic fucking excuse of a girl ever. I have a GED, jobs skills that don't mean shit, and a fucking metric ton of hospital bills that I'm going to have to pay when I get out of here. I'm enough to make any social worker second-guess their career choice."

"And I'm bipolar, gay, and have more scars than a normal person has teeth," Dean replied earnestly. "It doesn't mean I don't deserve to have all of the same things that everyone else has. You deserve a life outside of here, Charlie. All of us do."

It took everything Castiel had to not reach out to run his fingers over the other man's forearms so that Dean would know that the jagged scars of his past didn't bother him, but this wasn't about Dean or him or just Charlie, really. This was about how fucked up each and every one of them were and how they had to keep trying and moving forwards and living despite that.

Charlie still seemed unconvinced by Dean speech, the red hair in front of her face swaying as she shook her head back and forth as her roommate spoke. The other man seemed perturbed by her continuing denial and looked pleadingly at Cas for him to add something that might make Charlie stop doubting herself so much.

"JO!" Cas shouted suddenly, making Ellen look up sharply from the paperwork that she was flipping through in the doorway of the cafeteria. "She could probably help you do your makeup and hair. And earrings aren't the only type of jewelry in existence, my sister doesn't even really wear them either. Plus, I have no talent whatsoever and if I can get into NYU, you can definitely get into a place to live."

"I don't need you to put yourself down to make me feel better," Charlie muttered, lifting her head enough that her hair parted so she could glare at Castiel for a second before tears filled her eyes and her bottom lip trembled. "You really think Jo would do my makeup for me if I asked her?"

"I'm positive," Dean answered quickly, reaching out to sweep one side of Charlie's hair out of her face. "You want me to go ask Ellen to text her real quick and ask her for you?"

"No, I'll do it," the redhead said with a sniffle, bringing up a hand to wipe over her eyes with the cuff of her flannel over shirt as she clambered to her feet. "You two stay here and make googly eyes at each other some more or something."

"Why are we friends, again?" Dean asked, the blush that had only just receded returning with a vengeance as it climbed up his neck towards the tips of his ears.

"I dunno," Charlie replied with a shrug, grabbing her tray along with Becky's before she dropped a kiss onto Dean's forehead and made her way towards Ellen who was still watching them curiously.

Dean let out a pained sounding laugh and ran his hand over his face before glancing sheepishly at Cas. "I didn't mean for this to turn into a whole thing, but I had to listen to her talk herself out of going to that interview all night after our date and I just couldn't take it anymore. Forgive me?"

"For what?" Cas asked breathlessly, heart racing from Dean calling their meeting on the bench the night before a date. God, it kinda had been a date hadn't it?

"For messing up us getting to spend time together," Dean said matter-of-factly, glancing around the room for a moment before he purposefully put his hand over Castiel's that was resting on top of the table with his fork held loosely in his grasp.

Dean's hand wasn't exactly bigger than his, his palms were wider and callused; charcoal was embedded in the creases of his knuckles making the fine blonde hairs on the back of his hand stand out even more noticeably in contrast. Cas could just barely see the edge of a scar curving up towards the top of Dean's forearm from the softer, fleshy underside that he had already seen criss-crossed with old marks littered amongst the ever-prevalent freckles. His own fingers were longer, his nails jagged and torn where Dean's were neatly sculpted and his veins stood out a sharp, bright blue through thin skin, but a part of him just felt that this was a _moment._

Dean's hand curling over his felt right.

"I...uh...we're good," Castiel managed to get out after what felt like too long, his tongue feeling too big and bumbling in his mouth. "Nothing to apologize for."

"You're awesome," Dean declared, smiling widely at him as he gave Cas's hand one firm squeeze before releasing it and gesturing towards his mostly full tray. "Once we're done do you want to hang out until lights out?"

"Sure," Castiel said quickly, shoving a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his face in a way that was probably very attractive because the sooner he got done the sooner he could go back to holding Dean's hand. "I'm not very good at video games though, which is weird because having decent hand/eye coordination is pretty essential to playing the piano. I should be better than Ash and Charlie combined."

"I'm bad at them too," Dean admitted, abandoning his practically pulverized chicken in favor of the cup of red jello that was sitting on his tray. "Which, yea...I guess its weird that I suck at that stuff also. But um...actually I wanted to just talk some more. And um...if it's not weird maybe get you to pose for me?"

"P-pose?" his voice came out roughly three octaves higher than normal, but really his mind had just gone straight to the kind of posing that his mom used to pay models to do for her intermediate drawing class; she had always lamented the fact that grown ass college students couldn't deal with a little nudity without giggling.

"Yea," Dean said, reaching out to tilt Castiel's chin up towards the light a bit; his fingers lingering along his jawline and trailing down his neck as the other man's breath hitched softly. "I know it's creepy, but um...well I can't get your nose right or your uh...lips. I just need you to sit still for a bit. Is that okay?"

"I'll bring my book," Cas replied, licking his dry lips self-consciously now that Dean had mentioned them and inadvertently drawing the other man's attention back to them. "I'll read, you draw and if a question pops into either of our heads we can talk."

"That sounds good," Dean murmured suddenly shy.

Their legs were still crossed over each other underneath the table, but Dean was now tapping his foot slowly like he was keeping the beat to a song only he was hearing causing the edge of his shoe to rub up and down Cas's ankle in a way that sent little bolts of electricity running down his spine. Dean probably didn't mean for the gesture to be as intimate as it was, but the silence hovering comfortably between them as they finished eating made it just that.

Dean dropped their trays off at the return cart once they were both finished before reaching for his hand automatically, freezing once he realized that Ellen was watching them appraisingly from where she was still supervising the last of the stragglers who were still lingering in the cafeteria. The orderly rolled her eyes at Dean's suddenly terror stricken face before making a show of turning back to her papers, plucking out a blank menu and waving it in their direction until Cas took it along with the pen that she produced from behind her ear.

It wasn't until Cas was filling out his menu for the next day against the wall next to the door that the older woman spoke.

"You know, the wording in the rules is really specific," Ellen mused seemingly to herself, but loud enough that both Cas and Dean turned to look up at her. "' _Romantic relationships are not advised while in treatment.'_ So its not against the rules per se, as long as you keep it healthy. I could really care less, myself, got too much other stuff to do besides reporting people for holding hands."

"Thanks, El," Dean mumbled, accepting a pinch on the cheek from the other woman without even a grimace before taking Cas's hand in his and stepping out into the hallway.

Cas felt like he should be freaking out that he was holding hands with another guy where everyone could actually see him. Because if he were anywhere else, if he were out on the street or at a party with his friends, and if Dean was holding his hand in front of people that he actually knew in real life, then he would be freaking the fuck out. Sweating and vomiting and probably crying, the whole shebang. Yea, he would be having a panic attack right now if Michael showed up and leveled that judgmental, disappointed look at him when he saw him holding hands with Dean.

But this was a place apart, a place that was safer than the real world was. It didn't play by the rules that school or home did and it certainly had it's own time zone that could only be compared to how the time in airports seemed to drag on independent of how fast the rest of the world was moving. No one here would know him once he was gone, probably….maybe. Maybe just Dean. He would be okay with just Dean knowing what had happened here once they left.

"Okay, I'm gonna grab my stuff," Dean explained, hooking his thumb over his shoulder once they had reached the door to his and Charlie's bedroom. "My pencils and stuff. And then I'll meet you in the day area. 'kay?"

"Yea," Cas agreed, not moving from where they had stopped because Dean was still holding onto his hand and looking at him all happy and smiley and fuck if he wasn't feeling just a little bit sappy himself because no one had ever held his hand in a romantic type way before.

"So I should get my stuff," Dean said again, his green eyes flicking over Cas's face and neck and chest. "We're wasting time."

"Time is fucked here anyway," Castiel muttered, earning a snort of laughter from Dean as the other man ducked his head and nodded in agreement, breaking the fragile trance that they had been in just moments before.

"Go get your book, nerd," the other patient told him fondly, reaching up to jiggle his glasses on his face before finally letting go of his hand and taking a step back towards his room. "I'll meet you in the day area in five minutes."

Cas nodded quickly and headed around the corner towards his own room, snatching up the book that he had dropped off back there before going to dinner earlier. He spared a glance at Rufus who was sitting cross legged on his bed eating the same chicken strips and fries that Dean had eaten for his own dinner only the whole plate was drowned in gravy, but the older man just gave him a grunt when he said hello and continued eating.

He saw Charlie leaning against the nurse's station on his way to the day area; the red head deep in conversation with Ellen who was holding a phone to her other ear and seemingly playing go-between for the patient and Jo. Ash and Becky were no where to be found, but Cas was pretty sure he had seen the other man blowing stuff up on the television with Crowley in the rec room as he had passed so he wasn't particularly worried about either of his two missing friends.

The couch that they had been sitting on earlier was empty and Castiel rushed to claim it, laying down across the length of it so that he could reserve it entirely for just he and Dean. He pulled his shirt down from where it had ridden up his torso when he had sprawled and settled himself firmly into the sagging cushions of the couch before cracking open his father's book, _The Wayward Harvest_ , and flipping to the familiar dedication to his mom that prefaced all of Carver Edlund's works.

_For Amelia, may your passion never die._

It had changed over the years and usually it was some inside joke between their parents or their family. Once his father had put a grocery list for his mother into his dedication and another time he had asked if he could buy a new typewriter. It had never been serious until she got sick and then his dad had spent weeks trying to think of the perfect thing to say in his dedication, delaying the initial release date of the book by almost a month because he kept changing his mind. Luckily, his publisher was indulgent and understanding of the fact that this dedication was going to play its small part in helping their biggest name cope with his wife's death.

"Scoot over," Dean demanded, running a hand across the top of Castiel's head that was propped on one of the armrests of the couch.

Cas glanced up from the lengthy introduction that the publisher's fact checker had included in order to give background information about the book's setting, the Midwest during the Great Depression, to see Dean looming over him with his sketchpad tucked under his arm and a handful of pencils clutched in his hand. He sat up in order to move and ended up hooking his legs over the other armrest , hesitating for just a second when Dean sat before laying back down and putting his head gingerly against the other man's denim clad thigh; resting as little of his weight as possible in case this was not okay.

"Comfortable?" Dean asked, quirking an amused eyebrow at Castiel when he bit his lip hesitantly before nodding. "Good, now be still and keep your book down low. I need to be able to see your face."

"This good?" he asked, settling his book against his sternum so that he could see it when he looked down his body towards his feet. His neck wasn't exactly comfortable, but Dean's leg was firm with just enough give to make him not want to move.

"Perfect, Cas," Dean murmured, playing with the ends of hair for a second before he tucked the rest of his pencils away and settle his sketchpad into his lap. "So you said you go to NYU, what are you studying?"

"Well, nothing right now," Castiel answered, frowning at his book as he thought of how much homework he had that he really should be working on instead of hanging out with Dean, but he could take one night off, right? It wouldn't kill him… "But when I'm not here I major in economics with a specialization in accounting. I'm minoring in business, too. I'm supposed to take the GRE in a couple of weeks and then I'll start looking into graduate schools. Michael went to Columbia so I'll probably start there."

"Do you like it?" Dean asked softly, his pencil scritching against the paper above his head as the other man worked.

"It's okay," he admitted after a long minute of debate because no one had flat out asked him before if he liked what he was going to school for. Most people just assumed that he did because of how much time he spent focusing on school and nothing else; talking about it, breathing it, fuck injecting it straight into his cerebellum practically with how often he fell asleep on top of his books while he was studying. "I mean, I'm almost done with my Bachelor's so I might as well finish."

The other patient hummed in understanding above him and Castiel wondered if that was the end of the talking for right now because he liked talking to Dean and the other man actually listened to him when he spoke instead of just waiting for him to be done so that they could talk like Meg and Balthazar sometimes did.

"Are you in school?" Castiel asked, glancing up from his book towards the other man who already had a smudge of graphite on the edge of his nose and kept glancing back and forth between Cas's face and the paper of his sketchpad.

"Nah," Dean said nonchalantly, shrugging a bit as he spoke. "I've taken art classes on and off at Brooklyn Community, but school's just never really clicked for me. Most of my teachers are assholes anyway."

"My mom used to teach art at Parson's," Castiel said offhandedly, fidgeting with the dust jacket on his book as he waited for the tightness in his chest that usually accompanied talking about his mom with anyone to appear. "She uh...she drew and painted. She was really good."

"So why'd she stop?" Dean asked, frowning at his sketchpad for a second before he reached down to smudge his thumb across the page.

Cas's throat constricted around the words. _She's dead, six feet under, dust in the wind, kicked the proverbial bucket._ Any sort of euphemism would probably get the point across to the other man and for some reason he really wanted to talk to Dean about it because Dean would get it, his own mother had died too. Dean would understand if he told the other man that his chest had been slowly imploding for the last year and he felt like he was being sucked into a black hole any time he saw something that reminded him of his mom.

"Cas?" Dean's voice said distantly, pulling him out of his thoughts that were swimming on the page of the book in front of him. "Are you with me?"

"Yea," he said quickly, closing the book in an effort to close off the panic he could feel lurking at the edges of his mind. "I just...she's...she just doesn't anymore. Can we not talk about it right now?"

Dean's eyebrows drew together in concern and the other man nodded slowly before shifting his sketchpad to the side so that he could put his hand on the crown of Cas's head. "We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to Cas, but I'd listen to you talk all night about nothing anyway. So if you change your mind...just know nothing you say is going to make me stop listening."

"Okay," Cas replied softly, shifting his head farther onto Dean's thigh in order to give the other man's gentle fingers better access to his hair. "I might take a nap though, reading's making my stomach hurt."

Dean chuckled softly as his fingers continued to card hesitantly through his hair for another minute before they disappeared and the other man slowly shifted his sketchpad back to his other leg so that he could continue using it. "Only fair I guess, I took a nap on you earlier. Mind if I take off your glasses?"

"Go ahead and blind me then," Cas muttered, already relaxing as his breathing unconsciously synced up with the other man's. "Can I trust you to keep 'em safe for me while I nap? It's the only pair I have with me."

"You can trust me,Cas," Dean replied and Castiel could feel his glasses being removed from his face, the click of the plastic folding together sounding right next to his ear.

 _Yea, I can._ He thought, smiling softly to himself as the scratch of Dean's pencil and the smell of the other patient's slightly, woodsy cologne lulled him off to a light doze. He wasn't exactly asleep, but his limbs felt too heavy to move and it seemed like it wasn't worth the struggle to bother opening his eyes when Dean started speaking softly to himself an indeterminate amount of time later.

"I never thought this would happen," Dean's voice rumbled softly, barely louder than the noise that his pencil was making on the paper as he drew. "I thought I was broken or too fucked up to feel how other people do when they like someone. But you're like...you make me feel all those things I'm supposed to feel."

Cas wasn't sure if he was dreaming because lately all of his dreams had felt so fucking real, but if he was dreaming then why could he feel Dean's fingers tracing over his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose like a phantom touch? Why did the wall that he turned to face shift away from his skin when he rubbed his cheek against it's soft, cedar scented surface? If this was a dream he never wanted to wake up from it; he wanted Dean to keep saying nice things to him forever.

"You're just so cute and smart," Dean continued, his tone hushed and reverent. "And I know you're way too good for me, but I still want to try. I don't know if I'll ever feel like this again, Cas and I don't want to miss out just because I'm scared. I bet you're not scared of anything, maybe that's why I like you so much."

He frowned at that, willing his eyes to open because he needed to see Dean so that he could tell him how scared he was of pretty much everything. Hell, he'd prefer to never leave his apartment because the exhaust from taxis caused cancer and a million New Yorkers' cell phones probably gave off enough radiation to make a real live cow drop dead and everything was just so dangerous and could kill him at any second... But he had to go to class and keep moving because of his family's expectations for him, not because he was brave. If anything he was even more of a coward for not being able to cope with the simple things that other people coped with every day.

But his eyes protested the bright light that he instinctively knew would be waiting for him when he opened them and the sudden motion of him flinging an arm over his face made Dean's fingers stutter to a stop where they had been caressing his jawline.

"Are you awake?" Dean asked cautiously, his hand moving down to rest against Castiel's neck, thumb dipping into the hollow of his throat. "Cas?"

"You're the cute one," Castiel groaned, kicking his heels against the outside of the couch in frustration as the rest of what Dean had said started to slip away from him as his brain struggled back to life. "God! I am not cute, why would you say that?"

"Because you _are_ cute," Dean his tone playful as he poked Cas in the nose with his finger. "And I wouldn't have said it if I knew you were awake. I'm so embarrassed."

"Nooooo," Cas whined, finally moving his arm off of his eyes so that he could see Dean only to squint against the harsh light of the day area when he did so. "Jesus H., my retinas are on fire."

"Awww, see?" Dean asked, leaning forward until his shadow shielded Castiel from the light. "You're adorable."

The other man was smiling down at him, eyes crinkled and freckles too shaded to see, but it seemed like his green eyes were sparkling happily and Castiel was struck speechless by the fact that someone like Dean could possibly think he was attractive. God, he really really wanted to kiss him. Maybe that's what he would ask for if he won their game, maybe he could bribe Charlie with ice cream to throw the whole thing…

"Light's out in half an hour, fellas," Bobby drawled and Castiel sat up suddenly, narrowly avoiding cracking his forehead against Dean's as he did so to see the other man propped up against the door frame of the day area with his arms crossed over his chest. "You two are my only stragglers tonight."

"Guess I was asleep longer than I thought," Cas muttered as he rubbed at the back of his neck, self-conscious because the older man had walked in on him and Dean in an almost intimate position.

"Here are your glasses, Cas," Dean offered, plucking the frames from where they were hooked into the neckline of his t-shirt and holding them out to him. "I told you I wouldn't mess them up."

"Thanks," he replied shyly, ducking his head as he slipped them back on before looking up to see the other man brought back into sharp focus as Dean pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand to help him up as well. "Are you going to bed now? We have a little bit longer…"

"I'm going to take a shower and stuff," Dean explained with a nonchalant shrug, collecting his pencils and sketch pad from where it had ended up crammed between his leg and the armrest. "I might work a little bit more on this though before I go to bed. I got um...distracted a bit...so I didn't finish it tonight."

"Well, we've always got tomorrow," Cas offered, bumping his shoulder companionably into Dean's as they both headed towards the hallway. "It's not like either of us are going anywhere."

"Yea," Dean agreed, hesitating at the juncture of the hallways before waving towards the one that continued past the nurses station and around the corner to the hallway that his own room was in. "So um...I'm gonna go this way, but I'll see you at breakfast, yea?"

Castiel nodded enthusiastically at the other man, mentally compiling a list of words that were synonymous with 'charming' because that's exactly what Dean's awkwardness was and if the other patient was going to insist on calling him cute it was really only fair if he had something to reply with.

"So…" Dean blew out, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Cas's shoulders for a too quick moment before he pulled away, green eyed-gaze dropping to his lips for just a second that Castiel was almost sure he had imagined. "Uh...yea, goodnight."

"You too," he breathed, ignoring the wink that Ellen shot towards him as Dean spun away quickly and fled down the hallway, the back of his neck bright red from embarrassment or nerves or whatever.

Cas's own face felt hot, but then again so did the rest of his body. Jeez, how was he ever going to be able to get back to sleep now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEA! Suck it chapter! sorry, I should probably be telling work and illness and everything else that kept me from working on this update to suck it, but whatever. THIS IS A VICTORY! Enjoy the fluff because I packed it in and I will definitely try to be better about updating (I'm learning not to make promises about anything though, so **try** is the operative word there). Let me know what you think and come visit me on [tumblr](http://itspronounceddeathsteel.tumblr.com).


	23. Chapter 23

Castiel dreams of softly spoken endearments and fingers carding through his hair and gentle hands holding his face. He dreams of the hesitant press of lips and the warm presence of another body melded against the harsh, boney planes of his own. It's all vaguely shaded in the abstract brushstrokes of one of his mother's paintings and when he wakes up with his morning wood leaking and trapped against the uncomfortable mattress of his narrow bed, Cas honestly has a hard time remembering who exactly the dream was about.

It's not until he's taken care of his...problem in the shower and is going through the motions of making himself presentable to the rest of the world that he thinks randomly about shaving. About how stubble burn is probably uncomfortable, at least judging from the rash that he had seen Meg wincing over on the occasions that Balthazar had forgotten to shave. And if that weren't already a weird enough train of thought by itself, then the fact that thinking about Meg doesn't immediately make his heart start racing should signal the coming apocalypse.

The night before after being unable to sleep because he was too jacked up on the endorphins that being around Dean caused, Cas had half-heartedly pulled out his GRE study guide and propped it up in the thin beam of light that was coming through the mostly closed door to his rooms en suite bathroom. Rufus had already been asleep by the time he got to their room and he had changed into his pajamas in the dark, not wanting to wake the other man who often just looked exhausted without having done a single thing.

He didn't make it ten pages into the thick study manual before he abandoned it in favor of distractedly doing crosswords and then finally settling down with his copy of his dad's book. The beginning of it was interesting; it talked about a group of people in small rural town and what their life was like before the great dust storms and economic hardships of The Great Depression came and swept away everything they had thought they knew about their families and neighbors. It wasn't hard to see the parallels between the happy, unsuspectingly tragic Okie families and his own, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to relive how his family had fallen apart after his mom's death so he put it aside in favor of falling into a fitful, restless sleep.

At some point the dreams had started. And he wasn't complaining about waking up with his hips unconsciously grinding his erection against his sheets because, frankly, it wasn't as rare of an occurrence as he would like to claim that it was, but it did bother him a little that he couldn't remember more about his dreams than brief flashes of phantom touch ghosting over the thin skin covering of his neck and collarbones. It left behind an itchy sensation that just wouldn't go away and maybe that was what led him to the idea of shaving, when his palm skritched over his jawline as he was wiping the water out of his face at the end of his shower.

It was still fairly early, but then again Cas had always been an early riser or maybe it was the insomnia that so often kept him up straight through the night that made it seem like he was. Either way, it wasn't unusual for him to be up with the sunrise, but when he approached the night shift orderlies, Jim and Hester, who were sitting behind the nurse's station (organizing files and playing solitaire on one of the computers respectively) the man and woman just glanced up at him before both doing a comically in-sync double take and then swiveling in their chairs to look at the clock that was hung on the wall behind them.

Castiel surprised himself by chuckling at their reaction. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this good which was a thought that immediately made him squirm internally over how pathetic his life had become outside of the sterile walls surrounding him.

"What do you want?" Hester snapped tiredly though Castiel could tell from the way her head at had whipped towards him and her eyes had narrowed viciously when he had laughed that it wasn't just sleep deprivation causing her attitude. "Meds? Something to put you to sleep?"

"It's 6 in the morning, Hester, not midnight. He's allowed to be up if he wants to be," Jim chided softly, causing his coworker to roll her eyes at him and mutter something about 'just trying to make their job easier' before going back to her game of solitaire. "Did you need something Mr. Shurley? I can turn on the TV in the common room for you or unlock the rec room if you have your level."

Hester scoffed and muttered again, this time it sounded like 'level-schmevel' and okay, maybe in different circumstances Cas would like her just a little bit.

"Umm...no," Castiel began, scratching at the back of his neck where his skin was still prickling from his dream encounter. "I was wondering if I could shave...it's been a couple of days…since before I got here...so...how do I get the stuff for that?"

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped himself; frowning for a second before he held up a finger for Cas to wait as he one-finger typed a few things into the computer. There was some intense mouse clicking before the other man made a 'hmm' sound and got up to unlock the closet that held the patients' boxes of personal items, removing an aerosol can of shaving cream and a cheap white and yellow disposable Bic from a large industrial sized package.

"We'll be back Hester," Jim told his coworker, earning only a put upon sigh in reply as he came around the nurse's station and motioned for Castiel to follow him. "C'mon I'll let you use the sink up here so we don't wake up your roommate."

He shrugged and followed the older man down the hallway a bit, stopping at an unmarked door next to the one shower on the floor that Cas hadn't bothered to use since it was next to Martin's room. Jim pulled a small set of mismatched keys out of his pocket and flipped through them before he found the one for what Castiel could only assume was the bathroom for the nurses and doctors on the ward, 'not like the patients were going to be able to get in there at any rate.

"I assume its not your first go 'round shaving," Jim said by way of explanation, handing off the shaving cream and razor to Castiel before posting himself against the propped open doorway and crossing his arms over his chest. "Just make sure I get that razor back when you're done with it."

Part of Castiel wanted to take offense at the other man's insinuation, like he was going to _do_ something to off himself with the first sharp object he got his hands on, but then another part of of him thought of bolts; ones that were harmless until their sharp edges were used to slice open freckled skin in ways that would do the most possible damage. So he kept his mouth shut and tried to mask the awkward silence between he and the nurse by humming as he shaved, doing it as quickly as he possibly could without nicking himself.

"You got family visiting today?" Jim asked, sticking his head out into the hallway as he spoke in order to glance down it briefly before he turned his full attention back to Cas.

"No," Castiel answered confused by the randomness of the question. Five minutes of watching him shave in silence and that's what the nurse had come up with? "Why do you ask?"

The older man didn't answer, holding out a hand for the razor that Castiel had balanced on the edge of the porcelain sink as he rinsed the tacky remnants of shaving cream off of his face and then began patting the skin dry with the itchy recycled brown paper hand towels in the dispenser on the wall. He placed it carefully into Jim's hand, sharp-side facing away from skin, and watched in the mirror as the nurse move efficiently to the bio-hazard container on the wall behind the opened door and deposited the razor there with a rattling clunk.

Cas got the distinct feeling that the action was one that had been honed to fine tuned and more than slightly bored precision over years and years of repetition. Kind of like how Castiel just knocked out the the motions of everyday life because that's what was expected of him. He wondered if Jim was just as miserable doing his job here as he was when he had a mountain of homework to do for his Fiscal Solvency class, was growing up just learning how to hide how unhappy you were with your life?

"I'm going downstairs for some coffee," Hester announced, popping her head around the doorway so fast that it startled Castiel; the female nurse sneering at his surprised twitch with a caustic gleam in her eye. Maybe he wouldn't like her in any situation ever. "When I get back I'll start wake-up rounds. Get meds ready while I'm gone?"

"Will do," Jim said blandly, putting a gentle hand on Castiel's shoulder to guide him out of the bathroom as Hester disappeared again; the older man rattled the door handle to check that it was locked and then gave Cas one last solemn nod before heading back to the nurse's station.

Castiel glanced at the clock that he could just barely see peeking out from around the corner that led to the nurse's station and figured he had at least another half hour to kill before anyone else was awake enough to keep him company. With a sigh he started back towards his bedroom, intending to grab his study guide and actually stick with it this time instead of letting himself get distracted, but stopped short when he saw Hester pushing open the door to the rec room as he rounded the corner before the nurse ducked into a stairwell whose door was tucked into the corner of the hallway.

He briefly thought about how it was kind of fucked up that all of the exits were kept under lock and key (What if there was a fire?), but then immediately realized that the rec room was empty and quiet for possibly the first time since he had been admitted. In short, it was the perfect area for him to get some studying done without managing to find something to distract himself.

Making it to his room and grabbing his study guide was the work of less than two minutes and soon Castiel had himself propped up on the tiny loveseat with his book sitting on his knees and a pencil for underlining things since he lacked a highlighter tucked behind his ear. The only noise in the room was his soft breathing and the muffled ticking of the clock that was above the pay phone out in the hallway; he'd left the door open so that he could hear the call for breakfast when it came, but besides that he made himself focus on the formulas and word problems in the math section of the study guide.

He had to keep reminding himself to blink because his eyes were burning, which was annoying and weird because wasn't that shit supposed to be an automatic function or something? Maybe he just didn't know how to function normally anymore. Fuck, maybe he never had.

It could have been twenty minutes or twenty seconds that passed, Castiel wasn't sure, but the sharp, crystalline sound of knuckles rapping on the windows that he had honestly forgotten were there brought him out of his Pythagoras induced stupor. He had one hand buried in his hair in frustration and the other was gripping the pencil so hard that he thought it might break in half so it was definitely not the kind of position that he wanted someone who looked as effortlessly handsome as Dean did to see him in.

But of course that meant that it couldn't be anyone else.

Cas looked up to see Dean smiling at him through the glass, hand splayed open on its surface until he saw he had Castiel's attention and then it raised in a small wave. The other patient was sleep mussed, hair sticking up in odd spikes all over his head and wearing a faded AC/DC shirt that was all stretched out around the collar. Dean was holding a pile of clothing and a towel waded up underneath his arm and Castiel tried to not think about how that probably meant that Dean was about to shower.

Dean would be naked, covered in hot, steamy water in one of the showers across the hallway; less than twenty feet away from where he was sitting and… Yep, if there had ever been any doubt in Cas's head about whether or not he could handle getting up close and personal with another guy in _that way_ then he was pretty sure the rush of blood to his dick would be enough to impair his higher functions so that he could enjoy himself.

As he realized this, Dean mouthed something at him through the glass, pointing with his finger pressed against its surface and his brows furrowed in a way that made Cas assume that what he was saying was a question of some sort.

"What?" Castiel mouthed back, shaking his head as he over-exaggerated the shape of the word so that Dean could read his lips.

Dean pointed at Cas, tapping his finger on the glass impatiently as his mouth slowly formed an 'O' shape that.

"Me?" Castiel asked aloud, guessing at what Dean was trying to say with his pantomime and earning a brilliant smile from the other man when he pointed at himself. "Me what?"

"You" Dean mouthed again, tapping on the glass with his pointer finger before raising the same hand up to his face and running the flat of his palm over his own jawline and across his chin; fingers fluttering over his lips before he dropped his hand to rest against the glass again.

"Cave?" Castiel asked, earning a bark of laughter from the other man that he barely heard through the slightly open doorway. They could probably just speak and hear each other just fine, but something about their impromptu game of charades what making Cas's insides squeeze pleasantly. "Waved?"

Cas waved his hand as he said it and Dean threw his own head back and rolled his eyes expressively before repeating the gesture from before, rubbing his hand even slower over his stubbled jaw before mouthing the word that Cas was trying to interpret.

"Shaved?" Castiel called loudly enough so that maybe Dean would actually hear him, lifting up his own hand to touch the smooth skin on his cheek and smiling when Dean nodded enthusiastically and gave him a thumbs up before beginning to speak in a rapid fire that all ran together because it was muffled by the wall.

Sighing, Cas clambered to his feet; sticking his pencil in his study guide to save his place before he moved over to the door and leaned around it's frame so that he could stick his head into the hallway. Getting to see a sleep tousled Dean in his pajamas up close did not influence the decision to get up in any way; nope, not at all.

"Come again?" He asked as Dean moved to lean against the window near where he was standing, shifting the bundle of clothes and bottles he was holding to his other arm so that he could reach up with his left hand towards Castiel's cheek; stopping his hand with a soft, sharp intake of breath and just letting it hover in the narrow space separating them.

"You shaved off the stubble," Dean repeated, his gaze flickering between Castiel's jawline and his eyes for a few seconds before he blushed suddenly and started to lower his hand. "Is your family coming to visit today or something?"

"No," Cas replied, frowning in confusion even as he fought the urge to reach out to grab Dean's hand so that he could nuzzle his face into it like a cat; it was a weird urge to have, but shit it was a pretty strong fucking urge. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

Dean shrugged and made a vague gesture with his free hand that was in the safer space around his chest; his scars shimmered dully in the fluorescent light and Castiel tried to not let it distract him, though honestly he was more interested in the faint freckles peppered among the light brown hair and scars on the other man's skin than anything else. He wanted to map the dots onto a music staff to see what kind of song they made; it would be beautiful and dissonant and indescribable just like Dean was.

"Y'know...people like to get all spruced up when their family is supposed to come," Dean continued, snapping Cas out of his trace and making him realize that he had been waxing poetic about Dean's forearms. Yea, blushing was not the word for how much blood had rushed to his face. "Jim probably thought your folks were coming to see you or something, one of your five hundred brothers and sisters…"

"I have three siblings dork," Cas stated fondly, ducking his head shyly as Dean's mouth curved mischievously. "I told you that…"

"Just making sure you're with me," Dean teased, bringing his hand back up to tap Cas's glasses that had been slipping down his nose back into place. "And I'm not the one who wears glasses, dork."

"You can't just take my insult and turn it back around on me," Castiel mock argued, stepping out from behind the door frame so that he could catch Dean's hand and hold it where it was hovering over his cheekbone. "That's not how it works."

"How does it work?" Dean asked softly, his eyes wide and so so green that Cas felt like he could fall into them and never find his way out.

The space between them suddenly seemed so very suffocating, like there wasn't enough air for the two of them to have their own and Castiel had the crazy idea to maybe it would be better if they shared. Dean's fingers tentatively touched his cheek and Cas held his breath as they slowly tracked across his face and down his jawline, pinkie brushing his ear and nails scratching softly against the newly sensitized skin.

"Oh my god, DEAN!" Charlie's voice rang out in the hallway, making both men jump away from each other; Dean snatched his hand back like he had been burned and Cas spun around to find the redhead barreling towards them already dressed as she pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail. "Get. In. The. Shower. If my breakfast gets cold because of you then I will murder you."

"Char I'm in the middle of something," Dean announced and Castiel happened to glance back quickly enough to see the other man gesturing meaningfully in his direction only to stop abruptly once he realized Cas was looking at him. "Give me like, five minutes."

"No sir," the girl announced, her voice bringing Castiel's attention back to her as she pointed at the showers just a short way down the hallway. "You said that last night and then it turned into three hours of you Gossip Girl-ing all over me. I had to beg Hestible Lecter to let me use the showers after lights out last night just so I could scrub off all the man-pain after you fell asleep. I'm sleep-deprived, hungry, and I have cramps; please go take a shower."

"And people say I'm the dramatic one," Crowley drawled, ambling around the corner with his own much neater bundle of toiletries under his arm; the older man had on expensive looking red silk pajamas and oversized plush black bulldog slippers.

Charlie rolled her eyes and made a face as Crowley brushed haughtily past her, stopping in front of Dean and Castiel with a distinctly unpleasant curl to the corners of his mouth as he regarded them both.

"You two boys are more than welcome to join me in my shower," Crowley said, waggling his eyebrows even as Cas made a noise of disgust at the mere idea; Dean however, seemed to shrink in on himself, crowding in closer to Castiel's back until he could feel the other man clutching at the bottom hem of his t-shirt. "I can buffer all of that unresolved sexual tension between you two."

"Just fuck off, Crowley," Dean ground out, his voice sounding pleading and angry all at once and Castiel could feel the other man's hand shaking where it gripped the back of his shirt.

"So hostile," the other man muttered, raising his free hand in surrender as he sauntered towards the nearest shower; purposefully sliding the sign so that it showed 'In Use' before he disappeared.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked, rushing past Castiel to Dean who had let go of Cas as soon as Crowley was gone and pressed his forehead between his shoulder blades instead; taking in heaving breaths that Castiel felt all the way through his t-shirt and to the skin of his back. "Dean? God, I'm sorry. Do I need to go get someone?"

"No," Dean muttered, letting out a mirthless chuckle that sounded weak and small but for the most part okay. "I just want five damn minutes of feeling normal. Is that really so much to ask?"

"Honey, as long as we're living here it is," Charlie answered sadly and Castiel couldn't help but agree, then again normal hadn't been serving him very well before he came here anyway.

"Fuck it, normal is overrated," Cas stated matter of factly, taking the chance to turn around to face Dean when the other man pulled away from his back to laugh.

No one with red-rimmed eyes and cheeks blotchy from the lightning fast shuffle of emotions that Dean had just gone through should be allowed to be that beautiful. It just wasn't fucking fair to the rest of the world.

"God, Cas," Dean said, his laughter dying down into chuckles as he wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand that Castiel could almost still feel ghosting over his face. "That's perfect. Fuck normal!"

"Yea, fuck all of the things," Charlie agreed giggling, fist pumping the air before she looked around to see if their behavior was drawing the attention of any of the nurses. It wasn't, but Cas could understand why she was checking; they weren't exactly being quiet about their little hallway revolution. "Now go shower, Cas and I will wait for you in the rec room."

Castiel nodded immediately when the other man looked at him for reassurance and prided himself on the fact that he only hesitated a little when Charlie pulled him away from Dean and back into the rec room.

"Oh my god," Charlie gushed, flopping down onto the loveseat and pulling Cas down with her; giving him just enough time to move his study guide before he sat on it and bed the thin paper cover. "I cannot deal with him being like this anymore. Fucking make out with him or something before I smash your faces together and put you both out of your misery."

"What?" Castiel asked, biting the inside of his cheek so hard in surprise that he could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

"I mean your mouths want to get all jiggy with each other, its obvious," Charlie explained, widening her eyes as she spoke to emphasize how fucking obvious it was to apparently everyone except Cas. "So you need to kiss him before I have to hear him talk about the shape of your eyelashes for another night. No offense Cas, but it's giving me weird dreams."

"Charlie I can't just kiss him," Cas blurted in a panicked rush. "I don't...I can't...what if I do it wrong and it messes everything up?"

"You have kissed someone before, right?" Charlie asked in a worried way that had Castiel seriously questioning if the little bit of experience he _did_ have with kissing would be enough to impress Dean. God, Dean had probably kissed tons and tons of other guys and Cas just...he hadn't.

"Yes," he answered, crossing his arms over his chest defensively as he spoke. "Just not...like a lot. And only girls so...is kissing a guy different?"

"Dude, you're asking the wrong person," Charlie replied with a laugh. "I don't see why it would be different though. Just...don't spring it on him. Dean's fight or flight response is all fucked up. Slow movements, maybe don't slip him any tongue right away."

"'Cause he might bite it off?" Castiel asked, only halfway joking because holy fuck he was actually considering how kissing Dean would feel.

All firm skin and woodsy scents and strength so yea, probably perfect.

"Boom! World's fastest shower," a voice announced from the doorway causing Castiel and Charlie to both look up to see Dean rubbing a towel briskly through his still damp hair one handed.

The other man was now wearing a dark gray Henley with the sleeves pulled down and hooked over his thumbs along with a pair of jeans and a pair of laceless brown boots, but that wasn't what drew Cas's attention because he was chock full of hormones and sexual frustration and bad fucking luck. Dean's jeans had to be being held on my sheer force of will because the hipbones revealed by the other man raising his arms to dry his hair certainly were doing anything to keep him from falling down. In fact, Dean's jeans were riding so low that Cas could see belly button and a trail of blondish-brown hair that led down to the waistband of what had to be Dean's boxers and so much freckled tanned skin it should be illegal.

He wasn't sure if he made a noise or Charlie just knew he was about to have a complete sensory meltdown, but he felt a sharp pain in his wrist that made him suck in a much needed breath and looked down to find the other girl's nails digging into the flesh on the top of his hand. .

"You okay Cas?" Dean asked, dropping his arms to cradle the bundle that was his pajamas closer to his chest. "What were you two talking about?"

"You," Charlie stated simply and Cas felt like his heart was about to explode for a whole second before Dean just laughed and shook his head.

"Yea right," Dean scoffed, pointing down the hallway. "I just need to toss this in our room and then we can go to breakfast. Are you two coming?"

"We'll be right behind you," Charlie promised, saving Cas from stammering out something nonsensical because the only thoughts his brain could form were 'skin' and 'touch' and 'whoa'.

The other man nodded as he headed off with his bundle of clothes and Cas didn't even bother to try to hide the fact that he was tilting on the couch to check out the other man's ass as Dean walked away.

"Stop it," Charlie snapped, grabbing Castiel's arm and hauling him to his feet. "Seriously, I'm exhausted just watching you two drool over each other. Let's get some food."

"I could eat," Cas muttered, trying the rub away the blush from the back of his neck as they started towards Dean and Charlie's bedroom. "And I wasn't drooling, was I?"

"It was too close to call." Charlie answered flatly, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow so that he knew she was joking.

As they rounded the corner they saw Missouri who was leaning comfortably with her arms crossed over her chest in Dean's doorway, talking to the other patient with a knowing smile on her face. Dean's eyes were shining as he gestured expressively with his hands and Cas tried to stifle his sigh of admiration when the other man grinned widely when the doctor laughed at something he said and patted him motherly on the cheek.

"Well, I made your dad feel like a right ass, don't you worry," Missouri said confidently, her eyes flicking up to Castiel and Charlie as they got closer.

"So he agreed to try to family therapy thing again?" Dean asked, licking his lips in a suddenly nervous way that made Cas was to reach out and grab his hand to reassure him, but he wasn't sure if Missouri would be mad. The doctor may have already figured out that he liked Dean, but he wasn't sure how much PDA she would tolerate before she told Dean it would be better for his treatment if he just...didn't with Cas.

"Agreed is a good way to put it," Missouri replied, the fond, exasperated tone of her voice being the only thing that gave away her apparent amusement with the Winchesters. "Sam may have twisted his arm just a bit."

"That's my boy," Dean said proudly, earning an eye roll from Missouri as she shifted to face the entire trio of patients.

"Castiel. Charlie," the doctor began, gesturing at Dean who was still smiling in the doorway; hands shoved into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I was just telling Dean that I may not be able to speak to everyone who I usually see in the morning today. I have a few potential counseling interns that I need to give a tour to, but I will try to make the time after group to talk to you later. Is that alright?"

"Sounds good to me," Charlie replied, earning a nod of agreement from Cas because he figured that would be less rude than jumping up and down with joy; just because he had decided to actually talk to Missouri didn't mean he had exactly been looking forward to gabbing with the doctor about all of his problems.

"Great," the doctor announced, clapping her hands together briskly as she moved away from them. "Well in that case, if you have an emergency then Bobby or Ellen can page me. Have a good morning, kids."

"Awesome," Dean crowed under his breath as the older woman left, reaching out to grab Cas's hand and lace their fingers together before starting towards the cafeteria. "It's a beautiful day and there's no therapy and I'm about to eat a breakfast burrito the size of my face, could today get any better?"

"Fresh air would be nice," Charlie muttered, double stepping to keep up with Cas and Dean's longer strides; her smile said she was joking, but Cas could hear something wistful in her voice that made him remember that she was a sane person trapped in a place full of nut jobs. Of course she wanted to get out of here, so why wasn't he itching to do the same?

"Or maybe delicious, frozen dairy treats? Hmm?" Dean replied in a slightly condescending voice, thinning his lips and widening his eyes until Charlie's confused expression cleared and she pointed at Dean. "Yea, that's what I thought. Shut up, Charlie."

"Yo!" Ash called as they entered the cafeteria, waving from his seat at their usual table where he was already sitting with Becky who was fidgeting with the blouse she was wearing; undoing and redoing the top few buttons over and over. "You guys are not going to believe what Becky gets to do. Its so unfair, I wish I was a sex addict instead of just schizo."

"Darn that brain chemistry," Dean muttered under his breath sarcastically as he pulled out Cas's chair before taking his own.

The other man only released his hand long enough for them both to sit down and accept their trays complete with little paper cup of medication from Ellen who had greeted them with a smile in the doorway of the cafeteria. But as soon as they were both settled, Cas felt Dean's warm hand slip onto his knee under the table and he grinned goofily down at his food for a moment before trying to focus back in on the explanation that Becky was giving for Ash's announcement.

"...so Missouri is letting me go to see this lady, Suzy. She specializes in...well, what I have and Missouri thinks it will be a lot better for me than just reciting the Serenity Prayer over and over again in AA." Becky continued, smoothing the collar of her shirt as Crowley and Dick entered the room loudly discussing what sounded like plans for world domination. She got very still when Crowley slowed down as he approached her and dragged his eyes up and down her seated form, but as soon as she had moved on she drew in a shaky breath and accepted Charlie's pat on the shoulder with a tight smile before continuing. "Anyway, it will be good for me to be off the unit more anyway. Missouri says I'll be less prone to certain people here taking advantage of me if I'm gone for most of the day."

"See how is that fair?" Ash asked, small crumbs of toast flying out of his mouth as he tried to speak and eat at the same time. "If anyone should be able to leave its me. This place is only making me feel like the man is all over me, watching me, because they fucking _are_."

"Wait so are you leaving the hospital or just the unit?" Castiel questioned, ignoring the heat that pooled low in his stomach when Dean's fingers ran over the inseam of his jeans at his knee; it was an innocent touch, there was no way Dean knew how viscerally he would react to small displays of affections.

"She's leaving the hospital," Dean answered since Becky had just taken a bite out of her pigs in a blanket. "But just to go to another one, the one where the specialist is. Right Becks?"

The girl nodded excitedly and hurriedly took a sip of her orange juice, "My aunt is picking me up and bringing me back, but Missouri said I can eat and go to movies and stuff while I'm out. It's supposed to help me learn how to act around boys in everyday situations without feeling like I need to have sex with them so that they see my worth as a person. You guys see my worth, right?"

"Of course we do, Becky," Castiel answered, feeling Dean squeeze his knee as the two other male patients at the table nodded solemnly in agreement.

"Well now that we're done with our after-school-special moment of the day," Charlie announced, clapping her hands together before she started delicately spreading butter into the crevices of her chocolate chip waffles. "Let's get down to business; I have some ice cream to win off of Dean."

Dean scoffed around the mouthful of coffee he was drinking and then immediately grimaced before setting his mug down and adding another packet of powdered creamer. "When I win Charlie you owe me Starbucks for life."

"Well you have to beat me first," Castiel announced quickly, not wanting to be counted out because if he managed to win this silly game then maybe it would give him an excuse to do something about how Dean made him feel.

Maybe it would give him the push he needed to ask Dean out on a real life date outside of this place regardless of what his family may think. God, the things Michael would say about how alive being around Dean made him feel. His eldest brother would call him reckless and impetuous for tarnishing his reputation with some coming out scandal, but how he felt about Dean had nothing to do with his family or their social standing.

Cas was starting to feel like he deserved to be happy and dammit, he didn't want to give up the only thing that currently was making him just that.

"I haven't forgot about you, Mr. Dark Horse," Dean promised, leaning in closer to Castiel and lowering his voice to a hushed murmur. "I just don't plan on asking you for coffee and scones when I beat you."

"Well...good," Castiel stammered out and for once it was from a pleasant sort of shortness of breath instead of anxiety about saying the wrong thing. "Because...um, I'd hate for you to take my date idea. Y'know for if there are dates...between you and um...me."

"I think he gets it Cas," Ash drawled from the end of the table, causing both Dean and Castiel's heads to turn quickly towards the end of the table where the other man was lazily picking at his fingernails. "If you're gonna play your game, just play already. I got money riding on Charlie winning."

"Who would you even bet about a game that only the people sitting here know about?" Charlie asked incredulously.

"Me," Becky piped cheerfully. "Five whole bucks and my money's on you, Cas."

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming," Dean told the other two patients, earning shrugs from both Ash and Becky before they turned back to their breakfast. "Whatever, jerks, I'll go first. Dan White, politician, he did that thing where you let your car run in a closed garage."

"Carbon monoxide poisoning," Castiel expanded automatically, shrugging when Dean gave him a concerned look; it was supposed to be a peaceful way to die, like drowning. That's why he knew. "Isn't that the guy who killed Harvey Milk too?"

"And that's why Cas is going to win," Becky proclaimed, waving her fork around magnanimously. "He's full of weird trivia like that."

"I think my brother did a project on Milk in high school. Just stuck with me I guess," Castiel muttered, blushing under the scrutiny of the entire table even though Dean's thumb had started rubbing small, soothing circles into the skin above his knee. "But I've got a good one. Herman Brood, musician and artist, jumped off a building."

"That just sounds like the name of a guy who'd off himself," Charlie said with a shudder. "Brood. I think I understand why you say this game is morbid now, Becks. But I want that ice cream so how about...Oh, Howard W. Campbell Jr., spy, and hung himself."

Dean's smile could only be described as smug as he shook his head beside Castiel, "That one doesn't count, Bradbury."

"And why not?" Charlie asked innocently, glancing quickly at Castiel before she cleared her throat and turned back to Dean. "I'll get Ellen to Google it if you don't believe me."

"Charlie you know I know that's a fictional character!" Dean exclaimed, letting his fork clatter against his tray as he threw his hand up in the air. "Vonnegut is like my favorite author, do you really think I haven't read _Mother Night?_ In fact, I think you might have bought it for me for my birthday once back in high school."

"Oops,guess that means I'm out of the game."" Charlie said with a shrug, taking a big bite out of her waffles and looking weirdly proud of herself.

Dean glared at her for a second and muttered something under his breath that sounded like 'Never winning any Oscars for that.' before turning to Castiel and biting his lip with an expression that looked weirdly hopeful on his face.

"Looks like its down to you and me, Cas," Dean said softly, his gaze dropping down to Castiel's lips for a second before his breath hitched and he cleared his throat. Cas noticed that the other man's voice had dropped a few octaves when Dean next spoke and it made him feel both hot and cold all at the same time. "Better start thinking of what you want if you win."

Castiel nodded dumbly, inadvertently drawing Dean's attention back to his lips as he licked them. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears and feel his pulse pounding in his leg where Dean's hand was resting and he wasn't hard, but he also had a feeling that it would take much for that to be the case. He wanted to press Dean against a wall and bury his face in the other man's neck, he wanted Dean to grip his hair and pull his mouth around to where he wanted it, and he wanted to be surrounded by the touch and the taste and the smell of Dean for the rest of his fucking life.

"Castiel, darlin'," Ellen's voice called from the doorway of the cafeteria. "You got some visitors sweetie, your brothers I think."

The nurse's voice snapped him out of his Dean-induced stupor, made him realize that he and Dean were just staring at each other over their corner of the table; foreheads so close they were almost pressed together and hands closest to each other tangled together underneath the table. Around them the rest of their tablemates had gone about their conversations, either tactfully ignoring or not caring about the intimate way that Dan and Castiel had arranged themselves.

"They're probably bringing clothes for Charlie," Cas muttered to Dean, apologetically grimacing as he drew away from the other man to stand; thankful that for once he seemed to have controlled his wayward dick around his crush. "I'll just go get them and be right back."

"I'll guard your yogurt," Dean promised, his eyes twinkling affectionately as he said it. "Go on, we'll pick this up when you're done seeing your family."

Castiel nodded and started towards the doorway, priding himself on the fact that he didn't stumble once and only looked back at Dean watching him with a small smile on his face at the table twice. Yea, he was really starting to not give a damn about what his family might say if he brought Dean home. They didn't like Meg anyway and probably never would, but then again it wasn't like he had ever had a chance with her anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yea, here's an update and stuff. I know it took a really long time and I appreciate all of the patience, I do have four (4!) WIPs right now and am rotating through updating them, but I'm also in school and work so that's what takes so long. The next one I update will probably be Deep in the Heart for those of you that read that one and yea...come see me on tumblr @itspronounceddeathsteel


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: very brief discussion of dick related trauma

Coming ‘round the corner from the cafeteria, Castiel stopped dead in his tracks when he was confronted by the second most unexpected scene that he could have ever possibly prepared for. 

 

In fact, he might have been better prepared to see his dead mother’s ghost than his brother. Alright, he’d sorta expected to see  _ a  _ brother, just not  _ this _ brother...maybe he should’ve given the older man more credit though. 

 

Despite that he still figured that he was allowed to be shocked into a standstill when he saw Michael leaning back on his elbows against the long counter of the nurse’s station with another man Cas didn’t know by his side; the pair of them relaxing with sunglasses hooked in their collars like they had been stopping by while running errands on a day off. Cas couldn’t remember the last time that he had seen Michael in anything other than a three piece suit and even then it was rare for the older man to even take off his jacket  or roll up his shirt sleeves after a long day’s work. 

 

But now here Michael was, missing the trademarked sheen to his hair that came from the ridiculously expensive pomade that he used and sporting a 5 o’clock shadow even though it was just past nine on a Wednesday morning. Cas was pretty sure that the world had to be ending. But his brother was smiling…so maybe Michael’s office had just burned down or something to cause him to finally take a day off. 

 

“Castiel!” Michael called, finally noticing the younger man who had paused just as the hallway that led from the cafeteria turned towards the nurses’ station. 

 

Cas managed a sort of smile even as he was gnawing on the inside of his cheek and tugging self-consciously on the ‘Gnocchi Dokie’ shirt that Kali had gotten all of the Shurley boys one pun-erific Chirstmas years ago (he still maintained that Anna’s ‘See You Ladle’ shirt was better); he hadn’t felt dorky in it until just now. Not even when Dean was hugging him and touching him and looking at him like he’d hung the moon, the stars, and all the planets in between. 

 

“Well, don’t be shy, Cassie, c’mon,”  Michael encouraged, waving him forward with one hand and nudging the stranger at his side with the elbow of his other arm.  

 

He managed to shuffle forward to where his brother was beckoning him, giving himself more than enough time to take in the drastic changes in his brother’s appearance. Michael was wearing the most casual outfit the Cas had seen his brother in since the other man had still been in high school- a wrinkled white t-shirt with a crackled  _ Avenue Q _ logo right over the heart,  a pair of cargo shorts (paint splattered from the last time the Shurley brothers had helped with painting around their parents’ house), and worn brown Sperry’s. 

 

There was also a strange bruise peaking out at the collar of his shirt which Castiel thought was weird since Michael was a vitamin popping, health nut. It looked vaguely like the hickeys that Cas had seen speckled up and down the column of Balthazar’s throat more times than he could count, which...made sense? Maybe? It would explain his brother’s cavalier demeanor and the sudden reappearance of Michael’s wide smile that had been a rare sight at Shurley family gatherings for the last five years or so. Maybe Mike was finally getting laid, good for him.

 

Castiel fully expected his brother to stick out a hand for a brisk handshake, the stiff formal greeting having become their ‘normal’ since his older brother had been made a partner at the investment firm he worked at, so it was an understatement to say that he was caught off guard when instead he was pulled into a tight hug. 

 

He couldn’t remember the last time that Michael had hugged him...probably not since their mom had died. 

 

A sudden wave of emotion swept through him and before he could stop it Cas was crying. Big, ugly, uncontrollable sobs just like the ones that he used to have when he’d run to his brothers when he was getting picked on by the guys on practically every team who thought he was a band geek and a queer. 

 

“Cas? What the--Cas!” A concerned voice sounded behind him followed by a set of hurried footsteps headed in the direction of the nurses’ station. 

 

Well, maybe those guys had been onto something.

 

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas mumbled, pulling away from his brother so that he could shove his glasses up into his hair and wipe the back of his hand over his eyes. Michael kept a hand on his shoulder though and out of his periphery Castiel could see that Dean was close by, fidgeting with the cuffs of his Henley and almost vibrating with worry. “This my brother, Michael. Mike this is Dean. He’s my um...he’s here too.”

 

“Oh,” Michael said, clearly at a loss for words because he just helplessly watched Castiel clean his glasses with the bottom of his shirt for a moment before finally releasing his shoulder and sticking the same hand out in Dean’s direction. “It’s good to meet you, Dean.”

 

“Likewise,” Dean mumbled, licking his lips nervously at about the same time that Cas slipped his glasses back on. He watched his brother and his...Dean shake hands quickly and felt his lips quirk when Dean jutted his chin in the direction of Michael’s companion. “This another one of your brothers, Cas? I thought you said your family wasn’t one of those  _ 19 Kids and Counting  _ ones?”

 

“Unfortunately, I did not have the pleasure to be adopted into the wonderful Shurley brood. But that would just be weird anyway right?” the stranger explained, winking in Michael’s direction before continuing to address Dean as he offered out a hand of his own to shake as well. “Yea, I’m right. I’m Luke, Dean. Nice to meet you.”

“So you’re like...a close cousin then?” Dean asked, smirking at his joke when it managed to make Cas huff out a fond laugh. “Dentist with a vested interest in Cas’s periodontal health?”

 

“Oooh,” Luke said, pressing his hand to his chest once Dean had let go and raising an eyebrow in both Castiel’s and Michael’s direction. “I like him! I hope you stick around, Dean.  You can help me liven up these two workaholics.”

 

“That’s the plan,” Dean muttered, blushing suddenly and ducking his head shyly as he spoke. “Anyway...uh, since Cas is okay...I like heard him like...crying. I’ll go and let you have your get together.”

 

Cas watched as Dean nodded decisively to himself and started to turn away, not even looking in his direction as the other man rubbed a hand over the back of his neck self-consciously. And no. That wouldn’t do. 

 

“Hey,” Cas said quickly, taking a few hurried steps to catch up with with the other man so that he could grab the hand that was swinging loosely at Dean’s side. “Just...where are you going right now?”

 

“I dunno,” Dean said with a shrug, glancing behind Cas before he stepped in close and cradled the hand that had reached out to stop him with both of his own. Charcoal stained fingers traced tenderly over his knuckles and veins and in this exact moment Cas couldn’t give two fucks about what his brother would assume about his relationship with Dean. “There’s no group so I’ll probably just go hang in my room or find Charlie so I can tell her all about this great guy I like.”

 

“I sure she’d love that,” Castiel replied sarcastically, grinning in that stupid way that even he knew he  usually only did when he was thinking about Meg in minimal clothing. “But I’ll...uh, I’ll come find you when I’m done here, ‘kay?”

 

“If I don’t find you first,” Dean countered, giving Cas’s hand one last squeeze before he let go and started walking backwards away from him for a few steps before he spun quickly and began ambling vaguely back towards the cafeteria. 

 

Cas hoped that he wasn’t blushing too hard when he turned back around, but he felt like there was probably no hiding the way his heart was beating exposed and fast out on his sleeve. And by the looks that Michael and Luke were giving him he was pretty sure that his crush or mutual like-like- _ like  _ was painfully obviously. 

  
  


Luke was standing practically right on top his brother, his chin propped up on Mike’s shoulder and his arm draped along the counter behind the other man’s back. They both had twin looks of amusement on their faces, almost like they had just finished watching a YouTube video of adorable puppies frolicking around together; that ‘awww’ look that was unmistakable because it was so universal. 

 

He decided that bravado was probably his best way to go at this point, followed quickly by ‘denydenydeny’ if he had to go there, but it made bile threaten to rise up in Cas’s throat when he thought of telling his brother that Dean meant nothing to him. Just thinking of declaring that Dean was his...whatever, though _ that  _ made his palms start sweating and his breath come short and fast. 

 

It felt like there was no winning. 

 

“He’s a cutie,” Luke declared as he straightened from his heavy lean on Michael’s shoulder; stretching his arms out in front of him in a way that made the faded ‘Rent’ t-shirt that he was wearing stretch tight around his biceps. “Great ass too.”

 

The affronted “Hey!” sounded in unison from both Shurley boys and the lighting fast way their heads whipped towards each other afterward could have given any prime time sitcom a run for their money. The confused, frowny-squint they were wearing was something that Cas and Mike both tended to do as well, a trait they no doubt picked up from their father. 

 

“Aww, don’t get jealous,” Luke’s voice sounded again, drawing Michael’s searching gaze off of where Castiel could feel it searing into his beet red face. “You know there are other asses I prefer better.”

 

Michael simply rolled his eyes at Luke’s waggling eyebrows in that fondly irritated way that Cas usually only saw his eldest brother do when he was around Gabe before cocking his head towards a black garment bag that was hanging off of the back of the closet behind the nurses’ station. 

 

“Anna asked me to bring you that, she said it was for a girl in here who needed to borrow some clothes?” 

 

“Great,” Cas breathed, grateful that the topic of he and Dean and all of the weird, unresolved tension floating in the air between them seemed to have been dismissed. It wasn’t really something he felt like he knew enough about himself to even talk about yet. “My friend, Charlie has an interview later this week and needs something nice to wear.”

 

“She doesn’t have a family to bring her something?” Michael asked incredulously, folding his arms across his chest and right then it was like the older man was still dressed in his two thousand dollar three-piece suit. 

 

Castiel rubbed a nervous hand over his jaw, fighting his initial impulse to just kowtow to his brother’s imperious demeanor and blurt out every single encounter he had had with every single person in LICH since Sunday. But that would mean betraying not only Charlie’s confidences, but Dean’s and Becky’s and even weird, slimy Crowley’s as well. He didn’t know when he’d started considering the people on the unit  _ his people  _ but damnit, now that he did Cas felt like he couldn’t just turn it off. 

 

“It um...not my story to tell,” Cas explained even though he knew that his brother would find the explanation lame. He added a shrug on for good measure because...seriously there was nothing else he could say. “But thanks for dropping it off, Charlie will really appreciate it.”

 

He didn’t miss the frown that his response garnered from his brother and Castiel prepared himself for the lecture that he could almost tangibly feel coming on. 

 

But then something made the tense set of his brother’s shoulders relax and the older man simply let out a sigh before dropping his arms defeatedly down to his sides. 

 

“Yea, it wasn’t a problem, Cassie,” Michael said in a strange, soft voice than Cas had last heard during the more emotional moments of their family grief counseling sessions and even then it had been tightly controlled like every other aspect of the eldest Shurley child, but this...wasn’t. 

 

“I mean...shit, I didn’t come here for just  _ that.  _ I wanted to check on you too. You  _ are _ in the hospital, Castiel.”

 

“I’m kinda aware of that, Mike,” Cas replied, gesturing to the other patients who were milling around the hallways and Jo was was sliding behind the nurses’ station with a thick looking chart in her hand. “Did you think I was going to forget?”

 

“Well, no…” Michael said carefully before clearing his throat and propping a hand up on his hip. “But you just...did all of this without thinking of the consequences. What about school? Did you even contact your teachers to let them know you were taking a medical leave of absence? Do you even know if you’re going to be discharged in enough time to take the GRE? I know your health is important, Cassie, but what about the rest of your life?”

 

Castiel felt the panic attack coming as soon as his brother’s voice slipped back into that brisk, business-like tone that he was more accustomed to. His chest tightened painfully and it felt like his vision narrowed to a dark tunnel where the only thing he could see was the disappointment etched deeply on to Michael’s face. Breathing wasn’t a thing that was happening for him right now, but a cold sweat making all of his clothes suddenly feel uncomfortably tight and restricting definitely was. 

 

These were all of the questions he had resolutely been trying to think about as little as possible, choosing to worry about mystery drawings and his feelings and Dean and just fucking functioning like a person instead. But Mike was right, he couldn’t ignore everything else either. 

 

Still didn’t mean he was ready to deal with it though.

 

“Whoa,  _ dad,”  _ Luke’s voice said concernedly as the other man stepped forward to place himself between the two Shurley brothers. “Maybe calm down on the whole Spanish Inquisition shit. That’s not stuff he needs to be worrying about right now.”

 

“Well someone has to wo--” Michael began, cutting off when Castiel lunged forward to brace himself against the counter of the nurses’ station; pushing both of the other men out of his way so that he could press his face against the cool linoleum. “Fuck.”

 

“Yea, fuck’s right, Mr. Fuckface,” Luke’s disembodied voice agreed. “Maybe go take a walk for a minute. Get the kid a water or something.”

 

“Shit, Luke,” Mike’s voice protest softly. Cas could just make it out over the pounding of his pulse in his ears. “I didn’t mean to--”

 

“I know,” the other man interrupted, his voice sounding kinder now, but still sorta annoyed in a doting kind of way. “You were just doing that thing you do, now go get your brother some water.”

 

Cas assumed that Mike walked away even though he didn’t hear his brother’s footsteps, but he did hear Luke quietly confirming to Jo that they were okay. Hadn’t the man said he was in HR or something or maybe Anna had mentioned it? Either way Cas hoped that Luke was at least better with communicating with his brother was. 

 

“Sorry about him,” Luke muttered, tapping his fingers agitatedly on the counter next to where Castiel’s head was resting; it made it his forehead buzz slightly from the vibration. “Mike’s just...well, y’know how he can be. Don’t you?”

 

_ Bossy. Demanding. Tyrannical _ .

 

While those were all words that Cas could easily use to describe his brother, he was also pretty sure he had once seen those same adjectives grouped together to described Hitler as well and as much as a pain Michael could be, the younger man knew that it wouldn’t be a fair comparison. 

 

“Do you need a hug or something?” Luke asked uncertainly, his nervous hand moving to pat cautiously at Castiel’s shoulder. “I know we just met, like for real and all, but I could give you a hug if that would help.” 

 

Cas let out a sigh, relishing in the fact that his lungs expanded enough to allow him to do it in the first place (better late than never), and shook his head against the nurses’ station. He still felt sweaty and jumpy and full of too much adrenaline, but at least he could breathe and holy fuck he was never going to take breathing for granted ever again. 

 

“Okay then,” the other man replied a little aimlessly, the soft huff he let out a few seconds later sounding out of place enough that it caused Castiel to straighten up from where he had huddled himself up against the counter. “Y’know Mikey’s mother-hen schtick gets to me sometimes too, but I’ve figured out that the more stormy his eyebrows get when he’s being particularly bombastic the more he cares about the person he’s filibustering at.”

 

“His...eyebrows?” Cas asked feeling dumb and sluggish in the face of Luke’s rapid fire repartee. 

 

“Yea,” the other man said, flailing excitedly like a third grader getting ready for show-and-tell. “Okay, example time. When we were at the big work hooha the other night, missed you bunches by the way, your family talked about you all night. Anyway, I saw your brother lecturing the boy your sister was going away with for spring break and his eyebrows were full of this like...sexy, protective, righteous fury. Not his eyes, just the eyebrows. And his nose does this nostril flaring thing when he’s really passionate about something, but he denies it every time I point it out”

 

That was a lot of information packed into  _ maybe  _ two breaths and under normal circumstances Cas would probably be impressed; if he had the kind of energy that Luke had then Castiel might have finished all his coursework for the semester ages ago instead of getting panic attacks over half-researched papers and unfished internship applications. But this was not normal circumstances, so of course Cas picked up on the one thing that would normally soar straight over his head. 

 

“Sexy eyebrows?” He repeated questioningly, not missing the way that Luke seemed to freeze in place for a solid second or two before the other man gasped exaggeratedly and covered his mouth with his hand.  

 

“Oops,” Luke said, his eyes wide and almost-innocent.

 

“What does that mean?” Castiel asked frowning in uncertainty as he spoke. He felt like he already  _ almost  _ knew the answer to his question, it was like working on a puzzle that was all sky and the edges were already finished. “Oops, what? Do you like...like my brother or something?”

 

“Um….something?” The other man replied, his voice sounding tight and high pitched as he took a small step away from Cas. 

 

“Something like what?” He asked again, feeling his breath catch with hope  and his eyes burn with frustration at himself for even thinking the crazy, whack-a-doo thoughts he was thinking right now. “You’re like a flirty friend with a crush? Or a ladder-climbing, brown noser trying to appeal to the boss’s favorite cause by being extra obvious?”

 

Cas hoped like hell it was neither one of those, but the words weren’t coming out right. If the way that Luke was gaping at him was anything to go by, well then Cas figured he probably sounded more accusatory than an anything else. But god, what if Michael was more than  _ just  _ an ally? What if he--

 

“So one I got of the nurse’s to give me a bottle of water out of the staff fridge,” Michael said as he walked quickly in Luke and Castiel’s direction, frowning distractedly at the label on the bottle that he was holding. “It was pretty much either this or tap and I don’t trust the pipes in this place not to be full of lead.”

 

His older brother chose the next moment to look up, a frown turning the corners of his mouth down when he took in the tense postures of his younger brother and his...that’s what Cas didn’t know. But holy virgin, he really wanted to know. 

 

“What did I miss?” Mike asked slowly, taking the last cautious steps needed to put himself in the space between Castiel and Luke who was casting an apologetic look in the older man’s direction. 

“I  _ really  _ didn’t say anything this time, promise,” Luke said cryptically before straightening up and  holding one of his hands up near his head with three fingers raised. “Scout’s honor.”

 

“You weren’t a fucking Scout,” Michael muttered as he rolled his eyes at Luke before moving forward to put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder again; only this time it was shaking slightly, a fact that Cas definitely didn’t miss as he stared at his brother like he was seeing him for the first time. “Listen, Cassie. I wanted to tell the family all at once--”

 

“Yea, ‘cause it’s daunting enough to make a guy do this more than that, y’know?” Luke piped from behind Michael’s shoulder before quickly raising his hands in defeat when the older Shurley shot a pointed glance at him. 

 

“Anyway, we wanted to tell you all at once, but...” his brother continued, pausing to squeeze Cas’s shoulder tight for a moment before letting out a sigh and carrying on. “Circumstances being what they are, you’re getting one on one introductions.”

 

“We already met,” Cas said, jutting his chin at Luke who gave a little wave with his fingers when Michael glanced back at him in confusion. “On the phone. The other night.”

 

“Not like  _ met-met _ ,” Luke interjected quickly when Michael’s shoulders tensed as he turned back to Castiel; the other man hurriedly stepped in close to the elder Shurley’s  back and pitched his voice low as he continued. “I knew how important it was that you tell your baby brother yourself. So when he told me who he was I just...deflected, y’know? I promise, Mikey.”

 

Michael nodded tightly, blinking hard when Castiel unwaveringly met his brother’s eyes with his own that were pleading for the explanation that he hoped was coming. 

 

“Alright...alright,” Michael started dazedly, clearing his throat briskly when his voice came out tight and rough. “Now I know that I’ve never brought someone home, but you know how much I work so it's not like I have all the time in the world to meet people and everything with Mom...well, I had other things to worry about besides dating.”

 

Cas held his breath and just nodded when his brother paused, not wanting to interrupt for fear that whatever was about to be said, wouldn’t and then he would be left questioning his sanity for more than just the obvious reasons. 

 

“But anyway,” Michael said, his free hand reaching up towards his throat presumably to straighten a tie that wasn’t there, before he frowned at himself and dropped it to hang uselessly by his side. “Castiel...Cassie, I guess you already met him--”

 

“Only almost,” Luke muttered under his breath, grinning triumphantly when his words caused Michael to huff out a breath of laughter and shake his head in that fond way again. 

 

“Christ, Lucy,” Michael said throwing his arms up into the air as he removed himself from where he had stood between Luke and his younger brother. “Just introduce your damn self.”

 

“Finally!” Luke exclaimed, stepping in close and snatching up one of Cas’s hand which he started pumping enthusiastically. “I”m Luciano Stefano Pellegrino III, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 

“Castiel Shurley,” he replied dazedly, his whole body moving with the force of Luke’s handshake. “So, you’re...b-boyfriends then?”

 

“I prefer paramours,” Luke replied with a wink at Cas when Michael groaned as the designation and pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. “It sounds much less like teen fiction and more like a saucy romance novel.”

 

Despite the disjointed chaos that was his mind trying to fit this new information about his brother into everything he already knew, the younger man managed to smile at Luke’s cavalier attitude. The other man was everything that Cas had always hoped he could be in junior high, back when people still thought he was funny and the anxiety hadn’t been so crushingly overwhelming. 

 

Cas also knew that back then he hadn’t put his foot in his mouth quite so fucking much either. “Listen, Luke. I...um, I didn’t mean to accuse you of like…”

 

“Fucking your brother for a promotion?” Luke finished bluntly and Cas knew that the other man was not missing the blush that lit up his face by the way that Luke arched his eyebrow and thinned his lips to suppress a smile. “No offense taken, but I think the whole overprotective thing might be a family trait. You should have heard the shovel talk your tiny dancer gave me, mouth like a sailor on that one.”

 

“Anna?” Michael asked, a bemused look settling on his face when Luke nodded and stepped in close to his side. “I wish I could say I’m surprised. But, Cassie, you’re okay with this right?”

 

Castiel blew out a heavy breath as he nodded his head because what else could he be about all of this besides okay? It’d be pretty damn hypocritical to not be. 

 

So he said the one thing that was really crowding out every other semi-coherent thought in his brain. 

 

“I didn’t even...know,” Castiel said lamely, causing Michael and Luke to both chuckle and share a smug grin with each other. 

 

“That’s kinda the point of the whole big reveal, Castiel,” Michael said as he leaned heavily into Luke’s side, smiling widely before his expression flickered with confusion as he watched his younger brother’s mouth moving wordlessly and his hands fluttering aimlessly like they could pick what he was trying to say out of the air. 

 

“No,” Cas finally managed, his eye flitting around the ward until they landed on Crowley who was watching the conversation that he was having with Michael and Luke with rapt attention. 

 

He grimaced when the other patient brought his closed fist up near his face and mimed a blow job before pointing enthusiastically at Michael. Or maybe he was pointing at Luke, hell it could’ve really been both of them. 

 

Thankfully his older brother must have seen something on Cas’s face because Michael's expression of confusion grew even stormier and he took a step towards the younger man, dropping his voice to a hushed, urgent tone. “You mean...you didn’t  _ know _ ? But...how? I mean...I didn’t exactly keep it a secret, Cassie.”

 

“But you never said,” he argued feebly, his mind supplying example after example even as he said the words of why he should’ve known about this part of his brother all along. 

 

The gay/straight alliance he founded at their high school, his annual participation in the New York Gay Pride parade, the few friends he had brought home during his college years who Cas had at the time been pretty sure were drag queens and had given him his first confusing dreams, the older man’s obsession with British soccer players than had seemingly come out of nowhere when Mike was in junior high, the endless fundraising he did both personally and professionally for pro-gay legislation and politicians.  

 

“I came out to the family when I was in the sixth grade, Cassie,” Michael said, his voice taking on a frustrated edge as he spoke. “I took a guy  to my senior prom!”

 

“I thought that was just your friend,” Cas replied helplessly, feeling like a stupid asshole for so many reasons; this kinda explained why he only had one friend who hadn’t ditched him. “And I had to have been like six when you came out. How could I possibly be expected to remember something like that?”

 

“I don’t know, Castiel,” the older man said, pinching his nose again as the other hand came up to rub at his temple. “I just...thought it was obvious, but I guess not. I didn’t mean to heap all this on you while you're having a breakd--sick. While you’re sick, I should’ve waited until you were home.”

 

“No!” Cas exclaimed, reaching out for his brother’s arm with one hand and touching it lightly. “I’m happy you told me and I’m happy that you’re happy. You are happy, right? He makes you happy?”

 

“Yea,” Mike said in reply, his mouth twitching up in a smile as he glanced at Luke who was staring at his shoes a little too nonchalantly to not actually be eavesdropping. “I’m really happy, but I want you to be happy too, little brother. So what can I do to help?”

 

“I think this one’s something I have to tackle on my own,” Cas said softly, holding up his hand when his older brother looked like he was about to protest. “Really, Mike. Everything going on in my head...it's not something you or Gabe can protect me from.”

 

“It’s not about protecting you, Cassie,” his brother offered. “Just let me make it so you aren’t having panic attacks over schoolwork and tests when you should be spending your time in here focusing on what the real issue is.”

 

“But what if all of that is the real issue?”

 

“It’s not, Castiel,” Michael said decisively, placing both hands on the younger man’s shoulder and giving them a firm squeeze. “It’s  _ bullshit _ and it's not important.”

 

Cas gaped at his older brother, he’d probably heard Mike curse more today than he had in their entire lives. He felt like he was finally seeing the other man,  _ really seeing  _ his brother for the very first time.

 

“I haven’t filled out the application for your firm’s internship yet,” Castiel blurted, biting his lip as he waited for his brother to sigh in disappointment after all; everything else could be excused he was sure, but not this. Michael would take this personally. 

 

The older man bowed his head for a moment, sighing as he did so before he suddenly straightened up and pulled the younger Shurley into a rib-crushing hug.  

 

“It’s bullshit, little brother.” Michael repeated in a vehement whisper in Castiel’s ear. “All that matters to me is you. Do you understand me?”

Cas managed to nod his head where it was pressed tight against his brother’s shoulder, letting out a shocked laugh that chased away the embarrassing burning sensation in his eyes when he noticed Luke dabbing dramatically at the corners of his own eyes as he watched the two Shurleys embrace. 

 

“So I’ll take care of your school stuff then,” Michael repeated as he pulled away from Cas, the older man smiling in relief when the younger man didn’t voice any more protests. “And if you need anything else you call me, okay?”

 

“I will, yea,” Castiel readily agreed with a quick nod as his older brother stepped back to take his place again by Luke’s side; in hindsight the pair of them just looked so  _ right _ together. 

 

Maybe he’d be so lucky some day...maybe with De--

 

“Anyway!” Luke shouted suddenly causing Cas to flinch hard from the unexpected noise. “Cassie, can I call you ‘Cassie’? Are we there yet?”

 

The younger man managed a speechless nod in reply.

 

“Great! I feel like family already,” Luke continued, grinning in an almost wicked way when Michael’s hand flew up to the bridge of his nose again. “Anyway, it’s been lovely meeting you, but someone took off work specifically to drag someone else to a farmer’s market today. I’m not naming names, but did you know you’re brother is weirdly obsessed with eggplant?”

 

“I um…” Castiel started, unsure of where the other man was going with this. “I don’t think so?”

 

“Well, just know that he is now hooked on my mother’s eggplant parmesan and will demand it at the most unreasonable times,” Luke held up a finger in Michael’s direction without looking, almost like he knew that the other man was already opening his mouth to protest because Mike so totally was. “It  _ ruins _ the afterglow Mikey, ruins it.”

 

“Oh-okay, that’s enough of that,” Michael said quickly, tugging Luke away from Castiel with an embarrassed, beleaguered smile on his face. “Cassie we really should be going, but remember we’re all only a phone call away.”

 

Castiel nodded again, mostly because now he did not trust his own voice not to crack, as Michael swooped in for one last hug before beginning to herd his boyfriend (and wasn’t that weird) towards the psych ward’s double doors. 

 

“Feel free to call me too, Cassie,” Luke called cheerily in Castiel’s direction. “And also tell Dean that your future brother-in-law is Italian, I’m sure I got an uncle or two who could make him disappear if he hurts you.”

 

“What?!” Michael asked bewilderedly as Jo buzzed the ward’s doors open. 

 

Castiel could hear his brother vaguely being shushed by Luke as the other man led Michael out of the psych ward and he was sure he would be getting phone calls sooner rather than later about Luke’s intuitive assumptions, but he was happy that he still had time to figure all this Dean stuff out for himself first. Knowing that his family would most likely be supportive of him regardless was a massive weight lifted off his shoulders 

 

“I’ll log these clothes onto your property list,” Jo said vaguely in Castiel’s direction, tapping sharply at the keys of the computer she was using with a frown on her face. “You let Charlie know they're here so she can play dress up when she’s ready.”

 

The patient cleared his throat as he nodded, hesitating a moment before he picked up the forgotten bottle of water that Michael had left on the nurse’s station and turned away to go find Dean. 

 

Luckily the other man made it an easy task because Cas could hear Dean’s muffled cheers of triumph coming from the vicinity of the rec room and when he rounded the corner headed in that direction he could clearly see the other man doing some sort of flailing victory dance in front of where Ash was seated on the room’s couch. 

 

It was pretty ridiculously cute and for the first time since he had allowed himself to admit that he had feeling for the other man, the swooping joy in Cas’s chest wasn’t accompanied by a jolt of panic in the pit of his stomach. He could definitely get used to this. 

 

“Cas!” Dean shouted, spotting the other patient in the halfway and stopping mid-cabbage patch to run out and catch him in a hug that almost bowled the both of them over. “You just missed me using Princess Peach to totally kick Ash’s ass at Mario Kart. It was hilarious.”

 

“You blue shelled me, dude!” Ash yelled from the other room, tossing his controller into Charlie’s lap before folding his arms petulantly across his chest. “That’s not a real win, I demand a rematch.”

 

“Yea yea,” Dean called vaguely in the direction of the rec room, his arms settling comfortably on Castiel’s shoulders as the pair drew apart from their embrace.

 

Well...the two men didn’t quite draw apart completely, a fact that Cas didn’t miss when his hands ended up on Dean’s trim waist and his head became suddenly light headed when all of his blood rushed toward his more southern extremities. 

 

“So…” Dean started, clearing his throat as a Cas watched a blush stain the other man’s cheeks; highlighting his freckles in probably the most attractive way imaginable. If a meteor were to strike him, now would be okay. “That was another brother huh? He seemed cool.”

“Yea, he is,” Cas replied honestly, though if anyone had called Michael ‘cool’ a week ago the younger man would have had to bit his tongue to stop himself from arguing. “So uh...what’s the plan for today since group is cancelled?”

 

“Ah-ah,” Dean chided, bringing a hand around so that he could wag a finger in Cas’s face. “Not canceled, just postponed. Trust me, Missouri doesn’t cancel group for anything, afternoon group will just be hella packed. And since Becks is gone on her field trip and Ash is going to AA in about ten minutes then I figured you, me, and Charlie could just hang out and shoot the shit, y’know?”

 

“Shoot the shit,” he replied, hoping that Dean couldn’t feel his heart beating fast where the other man’s waving hand had settled on his chest. “Yea, that sounds good.

 

“Well, c’mon then,” Dean said, tilting his head in the direction of where Charlie was leaning determinedly over a controller as Ash watched her game unfold on the screen with a slack-jawed expression on his face. “I saved you a really good seat.” 

 

“I’m sure,” Cas deadpanned, rolling his eyes as the other man nonchalantly took his hand and led him in the rec room just as Charlie dropped her controller on the scratched coffee table and threw her hands up in the air. 

 

“And that’s how it’s done, son!” Charlie yelled, looming over a sour faced Ash who just stuck his middle finger up at her before silently storming out of the room. 

 

“Princess Daisy?” Dean asked as he settled into the couch, pulling Cas down close next to him so that their thighs were pressed together and he could sling an arm over the other man’s shoulders. “I’ve told him a million times to stop underestimating the princesses.”

 

Cas relaxed into the cushions behind him with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, basking in Dean and Charlie’s banter about different video game characters and their relative strengths and weaknesses. It was nice...easy. For the first time since he had arrived at the hospital Cas felt like he could finally breathe, like _really_ _breathe._ No worries nagging at the back of his mind like hellhounds nipping at his heels, no anxiety crushing the fucking life out of him. 

 

He glanced over when he felt Dean’s body abruptly shift against his, but it was only the other man throwing his head back in laughter at something that Charlie said; his free hand that wasn’t around Cas’s shoulder moving to press against his chest. He wasn’t sure what had been said, but right then in that moment it did really matter because all Cas could think was ‘ _ Fuck, he’s so beautiful.’ _

 

It was probably progress or something that the thought alone didn’t completely ruin him.  

 

“Christ, Chaz,” Dean gasped out, his chuckles dying out as he wiped a knuckle at the corner of his eye. “Don’t go posting your theories about Bowser’s sexuality all over the internet, you’ll hurt some some fanboy’s feelings.”

 

“Hey, I just said his castle was pretty much all dungeon,” Charlie said, raising her hands defensively before her eyebrow raised mischievously. “You’re the one who turned it dirty, Winchester. ”

 

“Wait a second, there were inherently kinky undertones to what you said. I just pointed it out, ” Dean argued, turning to Castiel and giving him large puppy dog eyes. “C’mon Cas, back me up here.”

 

He hadn’t heard what the other two patients had been talking about really, but Dean was asking Cas to pick a side so he just nodded along and definitely did not sigh like a wistful Austen character when Dean winked at him before turning back to Charlie. 

 

“See, Cas thinks you’ve got some unresolved kinks too,” Dean continued, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe once you’re out in the big wide world you can find someone to help you with those.”

 

Charlie rolled her eyes at the two men and got up to remove the current game from one of the battered game consoles shoved onto the small TV stand, placing it carefully back into its case  before turning back towards Dean and Cas with a hand propped on her hip. 

 

“Were you two planning on being all mushy and into each other all afternoon?” The woman asked, her voice light and teasing and exceedingly pleased with herself. 

 

Cas looked askance at the other man who was already staring pretty intently at him. Dean’s green eyes were hopeful and his expression was so heartbreakingly unsure that all Cas could do was reach over to give Dean’s knee a squeeze in the hopes that the gesture would be self-explanatory.

 

From the way Dean’s smile returned with lightening fast speed, Cas was pretty sure his message came across loud and clear. 

 

“Yep,” Dean said popping the ‘P’ as he replied easily to the other patient. “You jealous, red?”

 

“Puh-leaze,” Charlie scoffed, flapping a hand in the direction of the two seated men as she headed for the door to the rec room. “I’m just gonna go get my journal and my book. Try not to choke on each other’s tongues or anything while I’m gone.”

 

Dean mumbled something under his breath in reply, but it was too low for Cas to hear so there was really no hope of Charlie hearing it; either way it was pretty clear when Castiel chanced a glance at the other man that Dean was blushing all the way to the tips of his ears from his roommate’s parting comment. 

 

Which was still kind of a mind fuck really. 

 

Yea, he knew Dean liked him, even like-liked him, but it was still kinda surreal to have someone willingly seeking out his company and his touch and getting all flustered when the simple possibility of the two of them kissing was mentioned. 

 

It’s like all this time when Meg had been flouncing around in her skimpiest clothing, curling up against him when they would watch movies like a cat seeking warmth, or laughing in derision whenever a waiter assumed they were dating when they would go out to lunch, all of that,  _ that _ seemed like the delusion. Like the nightmare.

 

And the way that he felt with Dean...well, Cas figured his frame of reference was pretty shitty, but this felt like living. 

 

“Earth to Cas,” Dean called, waving a hand in front of Castiel’s face and chuckling to himself when the other patient blinked back from whatever contemplative trance he seemed to have fallen into. “You with me, darlin’?”

 

“Yea, yea,” Cas answered dazedly, shaking his head to clear the fog before he turned his body so that he was facing more towards Dean; one leg resting on the cushions between them. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” the other man chided, allowing the arm that had been around Castiel’s shoulders to slide to the back of the couch; Dean’s fingers falling to fidget with the sleeve of the other patient’s t-shirt instead. “I was just worried that what Charlie said made you uncomfortable, she’s just excited that we’re...y’know, getting along. I can tell her to stop if you want me to.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Cas said, pushing his glasses up his nose self-consciously as he tried to make a concentrated effort not to stare at Dean’s lips. “She’s uh...just concerned. Kissing related injuries happen all the time.”

 

“They do, huh?” Dean asked raising his eyebrow teasingly even though it was completely at odds with the way his face was still slightly flushed. “And how does someone avoid a ‘kissing related injury?.”

 

“Uh…” Cas stalled, because logically the answer to that was ‘practice’, but that sounded presumptive and he didn’t want Dean to feel like he was being pressured into anything. 

 

“Oh my god,” Charlie interrupted, saving Castiel before he made an ass out of himself by diving across the space separating he and Dean and attempting to smoosh their lips together. “The slimiest dude in existence just hit on me.”

 

Dean let out a big sigh and turned his attention to his roommate who was settling herself in the rec room’s armchair, wiping her hand dramatically on the leg of her jeans as she did so. “Slimier than Crowley?”

 

“Probably not that slimy,” the woman conceded, her mouth forming a moue of disgust. “But at least as slimy as Ash can be on a bad day. It was like smarmy British accent meets ick”

 

“What happened?” Castiel asked feeling a creeping sense of doom nagging at the edges of his mind. 

 

“I was just coming out of my room after getting my book and bumped into Missouri doing her tour thing with those intern candidates,” Charlie started, inspecting her hand before she gave it one last wipe on her jeans. “She did her whole ‘introduce a promising patient’ spiel and I started to head back here, but one of the guys in the group stepped out, took my hand and gave it a kiss before freakin’ winking at me and saying I was ‘delectable’. Like seriously dude? Gross.”

 

“Sounds gross,” Dean said making at face at the other girl’s story, but Cas was too concerned about some of the all too familiar sounding details of her encounter to focus on the squick factor. 

 

“And you said he was British?” Cas asked, his blood running cold when Charlie nodded her head. “Was he blonde? About my height?”

 

“Yea,” Charlie said, her brow furrowing as she nodded her head. “He was also wearing a disturbingly deep V-neck.”

 

“Oh my god,” Cas said at right about the same time Dean asked. “Do you know who she’s talking about, Cas?”

 

“You have to hide me,” Castiel blurted, turning towards Dean as panic filled his veins and his mind started supplying him with all of the ways that Balthazar could torment him if his roommate were to see him in here. 

 

“Hide you?” Dean asked, shaking his head bewilderedly at the other man. “From who?”

 

“Cas, what’s going on?” Charlie asked, scooting forward in her armchair as she glanced towards the hallway where Missouri’s authority voice could only just be heard above the ward’s general buzz. “Do you know that guy?”

 

“Fuck, I think?” Cas answered, trying to convince himself for a moment that it couldn’t possibly be Balthazar and failing miserably because he’d seen his roommate drop that ‘delectable’ line when Meg wasn’t around too many times to count. “Shit, no. I do, it’s my friend Balthazar and I don’t know why he’s here, but he can’t see me. I need you guys to hide me.”

 

“Why can’t he know you’re here?” Dean asked, grabbing one of Cas’s hands and giving it a squeeze to get his attention. 

 

The short bark of laughter that escaped Castiel must of have sounded a little hysterical because Dean’s eyes grew round and concerned before he managed to stifle it. “I just...he can’t know. Balthazar, he...he wouldn’t understand why I came here. I need you to hide me before he sees me.”

 

Dean studied Castiel’s worried expression for a moment before he nodded to himself and turned to look at Charlie. “Have they fixed the lock to that supply closet next to the bathrooms yet?”

 

“I think I saw Bobby fiddling with it the other day, you know he’s only half the handyman he thinks he is,” Charlie replied, leaning forward to put her copy of The Hobbit and her journal on the table before she rose to standing. “You got your license just in case?”

 

“Yea,” Dean said, licking his lips quickly before he rose to his feet as well and motioned for Castiel to follow him as he started towards the doorway and cautiously looked down the hallway. “But I’ll just fucking break the lock again if I have to. Run interference for me, Chaz?”

 

“Well, who else did you expect to do it?” Charlie asked, shouldering her way past the two men so she could head down the hallway towards her bedroom; throwing a wink over her shoulder at Cas as she went. 

 

“What is she doing?” Castiel asked, cringing when he heard Charlie’s voice boom out a loud exclamation of pain almost immediately after she had disappeared around the corner. 

 

“She’s the distraction,” Dean said, grabbing Cas’s hand and dragging him in the opposite direction of Charlie, back towards Castiel’s own shared room. “You’re not afraid of small spaces right?”

 

“Um…” Castiel started, because it's not like he had ever needed to know the answer to that particular question before. “I hope not?”

 

“Well then, do you trust me?” Dean asked, stopping in front of a closed door that was just around the corner past the bathrooms. 

 

Cas just nodded quickly and watched nervously as Dean jiggled the door’s handle only to find it locked before pulling a wallet out of his back pocket and using his driver’s license to deftly pop the lock open in less than thirty seconds. It would'vr been hot if Cas wasn’t completely terrified that Balthazar was about to come barreling around the corner looking for him. 

 

“Alright Cas,” Dean said, shoving his id quickly into his front pocket before he opened the door to reveal a narrow closet lined with dusty shelves full of hospital grade cleaning products. “Go ahead, I’ll help Charlie keep your friend distracted ti--”

 

“And here we have our recreation room than can be used by patients who are compliant with treatment,” MIssouri’s voice sounded suddenly close by, making both Dean and Castiel jump. 

 

“Fuck fuck,” Dean cursed, pushing urgently at the other man’s back until Castiel was pressed against a shelf at the back of the closet. 

 

“Don’t leave me,” Cas whispered desperately as Dean started to close the door on him.

 

He watched the other man’s expression falter for just a second before Dean let out a shuddering breath and nodded, stepping into the narrow space with Castiel before he shut the door behind him with a soft ‘snick’. 

 

Leaving them in darkness. 

 

The space was tight enough that the two men’s chests brushed together as they breathed and that was with Castiel pressing himself back as tightly as he could into the shelf behind him. As his eyes grew adjusted to the darkness  and his panic started to ebb now that danger of being discovered by Balthazar was less immediate, Castiel could just barely make out the fact that Dean’s eyes were shut tightly and his mouth seemed to be moving silently despite his ragged breaths. 

 

“Dean,” Cas whispered, reaching his hand out into the void of space between them until they touched against the other man’s neck. The other patient flinched away from his fingers, making an involuntary sound of distress in the back of his throat that just about broke Castiel’s heart. “Dean, it’s Cas. What’s wrong?”

 

Dean’s mouth stopped moving as he sucked in a sharp breath that sounded like a gunshot in the relative silence of the closet and slowly nodded his head, leaning back in to press his face into Castiel’s palm. 

 

“The dark” Dean rasped, his eyes remaining screwed up tight even as his breathing began to gradually slow. “J-just talk to me, Cas.” 

 

“About what?” Castiel asked, his thumb attempting to smooth away the lines of distress that he could only just make out at the corner of Dean’s eye.    
  


“Anything,” Dean breathed, letting his head fall back against the door of the closet with a gentle thump that Cas really hoped no one had been around to hear. 

 

“We could play the game?” Castiel offered, his heart lightening when he felt the corner of Dean’s mouth twitch against the base of his hand and he moved his fingertips to trace the curve in order to be certain. 

 

“You that eager to lose, Cas?” Dean whispered quietly, his smile growing wide enough that the other man could actually see it in the sparse light coming from the cracks around the door. 

 

“Or I’m really motivated to win,” he countered, allowing himself to relax the tense line of his body that was keeping him pressed harshly against the shelving behind him. If the movement ended up bringing his body him closer to Dean...well that was just a happy accident. “You wanna go first?”

 

Dean let out a soft huff of laughter as he reached up to blindly grab at Cas’s hand that was still tracing his face, cradling it in both of his own again like he had done earlier in front of Michael and Luke. It made his heart feel all flutterly again, just the same as it had before. 

 

“Peg Entwistle, actress, jumped off the Hollywood sign.” 

 

“Huh, I thought that was an urban legend,” Castiel replied earnestly, shifting his weight to be more comfortable because one part of the shelf was still digging into his lower back. 

 

“You okay?” Dean asked, noticing the other man’s shifting despite his eyes remaining closed. 

 

“Yea, its just cramped in here,” Cas explained, giving out a sigh of defeat when his movements only served to knock he and Dean’s knees together. “Anyway um...Elliot Smith, musician, stabbed himself.”

 

“Good one,” Dean replied, letting out a soft grunt of pain when Cas’s knees connected with his own and he reached out a hand that landed on the other man’s chest when his leg threatened to buckle. “God, just be still for a second, Cas.”

 

“Sorry,” Cas mumbled, his face flushing with embarrassment as Dean shifted his own body around until one of the other man’s legs slid between both of Castiel’s own; his thigh just shy of grazing a very pressure sensitive area. “Um...it’s your turn, Dean.”

 

“Yea, yea,” Dean muttered, tugging on the front of Cas’s shirt for a second until he was both closer to the other patient and no longer had a shelf threatening to slice through his spine. “That better?”

 

“Yea,” Cas choked out, willing himself to not get a boner when Dean would surely feel it pressed against his leg. Maybe they could get to that point eventually, but now was probably not a good time. 

 

“Okay, then,” Dean said smugly, his fingers tapping out a disjointed rhythm where they still rested on the other man’s chest. “Uh...Quentin Hubbard, he didn’t work but he was that Scientology guy’s son so I guess he didn’t have to. He did that carbon monoxide thing with his car.”

 

“Uh…” Castiel started, racking his brain for someone he could play, but finding himself distracted by the inane little taps of Dean’s fingertips on his chest and the warmth of the other man so close to him; the smell of his cologne or deodorant or whatever it was that smelled so fucking good and the way that Dean’s dark eyelashes contrasted against the pale skin of his cheeks because his eyes were still fucking closed. “I uh...I know of a guy who committed suicide by ripping his dick off with a palm tree sapling?”

 

He could thank that stupid 17th Century Mythology class he took as a freshman elective for that nightmare. 

 

“Ugh,” Dean groaned, making a face of pain and disgust that was plenty identifiable in the low light. “God, why? I’m gonna take your word on that one and we'll leave it at that. Fuck, man. Just...moving on, shit. Spalding Gray, actor, he’s the guy that jumped off the Staten Island ferry a couple of years ago.”

 

“I remember my parents talking about that,” Cas replied, feeling dumb for scarring Dean for life with the story of that palm tree guy; it hadn’t even really given him time to think of someone else or managed to clear his head at all because it’s not like Dean had managed to stop being hot or smelling good within the last thirty seconds. “Uh...Kurt Cobain?”

 

“Cas,” Dean said, stopping him from continuing as a wide smile spread across his face. “You said Kurt Cobain like two days ago.”

 

Cas’s eyes widened as he suddenly had a vivid flashback of him listing off the Nirvana front man several days earlier when both Charlie and Ash were still playing and Ash had insisted on singing ‘Blue’ in its entirety before the game could continue. 

 

“Shit,” Castiel muttered, earning a chuckle from Dean who took his hand off of Cas’s chest long enough to do a victorious fist pump. “So uh...you won then. You’d already decided what you wanted, right?” 

 

“Well don’t sound so put out, Cas,” Dean said, sounding slightly disappointed as he moved his hand back to Castiel’s chest; hesitating for a noticeable moment as he did so. 

 

“I’m not,” Cas quickly assured the other patient, allowing himself to mourn the loss of the date that he was going to try to ask Dean on if he had won. “I just...I really wanted to win.”

 

“Awww, I’m sorry sweetheart,” Dean said apologetically, moving a fraction closer so that the hand resting on Cas’s chest could trail lazily upwards to cup the side of his neck instead. “But I don’t think my prize will put you out too much.” 

 

“Well, let me know what you want and I’ll give it to you, Dean. Name it and it's yours.” 

 

“Don’t go making promises like that,” Dean said softly, his voice uncharacteristically shy. “A guy’ll go gettin’ all sorts of ideas.”

 

“It’s true though,” Cas replied earnestly, giving the other man’s hand that was holding his own a squeeze. “I’d give you anything you want, as long as I’m able to.”

 

“Well,” Dean started, licking his lower lip before he bit it gently and took in a deep breath through his nose. “Since I won, I want something special. Something I’ve never had before.”

 

Whatever it was, Cas didn’t care how expensive, he’d make sure that Dean got it. That sounded a little intense though so all he said in reply was, “Okay.” 

 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated; licking his lips again before he finally managed, “I want you to close your eyes.”

 

“Close my eyes?” Castiel asked, it was already dark as fuck in the closet so he didn’t see what harm it would do. Was this really what Dean wanted for winning though? After all that build up and trash talk? 

 

He shrugged and shut his eyes. 

 

“Don’t move,” Dean whispered and Castiel felt the other man drop his hand between them and shift so that their chests were more fully pressed together. “Or move, I’m not a hundred percent sure how this all works.”

 

“How what w--” Castiel started, amused by how weird Dean was being until he felt a puff of warm air against his lips. 

 

Warm air was followed by the tentative brush of warm skin which was followed by a shaky exhale from Dean and a firmer press of lips against his own. 

 

Cas himself was holding his breath, too afraid to move or make a noise because Dean was kissing him and he didn’t want to break whatever spell or bleach fume induced insanity that was fueling the other man’s desire to want to kiss him. However after only a few more closed mouthed presses of his lips against Castiel’s Dean was pulling away. 

 

“Is this...am I doing this right?” Dean asked, his voice sounding close still, like he hadn’t moved too terribly far away. The other patient opened his eyes just to check though and he was right. Dean was still right there. That was probably a good thing. 

 

Cas frantically tried to remember if he had eaten anything that would’ve made a kiss disgusting at breakfast. 

 

“Cas?” Dean whispered again, his voice sounding small and uncertain now and it took the other patient a moment to realize that he had been asked a question. 

 

He didn’t know how to put into words the spine-tingly frisson of electricity that had shot through his nerve endings from a simple closed mouthed kiss from Dean, but he figured the the least he could do was choke out something. 

 

“It’s perfect,” he managed. 

 

“Really?” Dean asked awestruck, his thumb brushing tenderly against Castiel’s jaw line. “Can I...do you want to do it again?”

 

Castiel nodded enthusiastically before he realized that Dean’s eyes were still closed so he couldn’t see the movement. 

 

“I’m nodding,” he blurted, and he felt his face heat when he realized that a simple ‘yes’ would’ve sufficed. Oh well, in for a penny....”Like, I’m really nodding hard here, Dean.” 

 

The other man let out a merry laugh and leaned back in, his other hand coming up to loop around Castiel’s shoulders as their noses bumped blindly together until their lips met; this time with Cas contributing. 

 

His hands moved to clutch at Dean’s waist almost of their own accord, probably a little too eagerly if the smile that formed against his own lips was anything to go by, but Cas couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted to soak in this feeling, let it wash over him until it filled his lungs and dragged him down and he drowned it in. 

 

Only this time it was the opposite of wanting to die. If for nothing else than these innocent, intoxicating kisses in the dark with Dean, he wanted to live. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! SOOOO here's an update, I know it's been longer coming than I said it would be, but well...so it goes. Things are better for anyone who is concerned (if you have no idea what I'm talking about well then my last update for Deep in the Heart included a note that I've been having difficulty writing due to depression, I'm feeling much better as of late). 
> 
> Bad news though (or good, depends on your POV). I've decided to take this fic off hiatus (obvs), but in its place Nomad by Fate is going ON hiatus. That means it will not be updated at all until either Deep in the Heart or IKOAFS are completed. 
> 
> If you're deeply offended by this decision or would just like to shoot the shit about comics, music, or fandom come visit me @deathsteel on tumblr. XOXO


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